That Good Night
by Crowhop
Summary: It's a scary world when the night falls---especially when it's the figurative night of chaos.
1. Statu Quo Ante

Author's Note: Hullo, all. Oya oya---it's been more than two months since I've posted anything. However, I'm back. As is obvious. *cough* Anyway, I'm terribly sorry to be babbling at you yet again, but there are a few important things I need to get through, so please let me spit them out quickly and then I'll shut up, m'kay? Thanks. 

After several failed attempts, I have finally achieved the Most Important Experience For All NID Fanfiction Writers: I have played the game. And, after going through it several times and closely observing what happens, I have come to the same conclusion as what every other NID fan has been telling me for years. 

When it comes to canon, _boy_ do I have a problem.

I'll explain a bit so you know what to expect. I'm following the game's storyline faithfully, for the simple reason that it won't have any bad effect on where I want to go afterwards, which was why I was contemplating departing from it in the first place. My universe, however, is slightly different from those belonging to most writers---my ideas for dreamers, deaths, and dreams are different than others, simply because I can make a better story that way. I'm not saying that what I state in any of my stories is true; it's just the way it is in this particular little universe. (I have several.)

My nightmaren are not so much dream creatures as they are reality dwellers; unlike other maren, who fly all the time or don't need to eat or have no hair or can take a billion blows and come back smiling, my nightmaren are earthy; human-like; blood and flesh. They're made of energy and they inhabit the dream world, but the focus is grounded firmly in reality when it comes to the way things work. Maren bleed, starve, sweat, and die, and while what they are is purely fantasy, many of their connections are real. Willow bark was often used as a headache relief back when herbal remedies were all the medicine available; ergo Jackle's violent search for it after leading a scouting mission with Clawz.

Why on earth did I go off on this entirely human road when I could have been far more canon? I'm not sure. Maybe I felt more comfortable writing about creatures that were more like myself. Maybe they had a closer place in my heart because they showed human tendencies. Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. Either way, you should know that this story shall not and will not follow the norm when it comes to Nightmaren theory and so forth---so please keep that in mind when you find something that doesn't apparently fit, such as a nightmaren staying on the ground for long amounts of time. It's just the way this universe is. I will be following the game faithfully, down to every last blue chip and Ideya Capture, but I am not being canon---everything that any fan, Sega representative and Archie issue being what I consider 'canon'.

*coughs* Okay, that's said, we won't have to see it again. Other issues you need to know about: where this story fits in on the timeline. Currently, I have several NID stories around, but only three of them are part of this timeline, and they go in this chronological order: The Lights In The Sky, The River Shall Flood, and Out Of The Dark Change. This story is the next in line, the beginning of the next trilogy; it begins only a few hours after OOTDC ends. We're that close, yes.

There was something else, I KNOW there was something---ah yes. Levels. In the past, I have used terms such as First-levels, Second-levels, and so on; however, from this point on I'm discarding the traditional use and definition of the words in favor of my own. I'll be using them as titles of rank, not as different types of beings---I refuse to place Clawz and Jackle on a lower level of life value than NiGHTS and Reala, and Puffy, Gillwing, and Gulpo lower still. I've been told that there is a Japanese form of the levels in a game manual of some sort, and it's actually different than the English-version ones…either way, I'm no longer following the orthodox definition, because I find it insulting and cheap for any creature who's not a First-level to be insinuated as worth anything less, especially because the level system seems to be based heavily on the 'coolness' factor. Ergo: First-level = high rank, Second-level = lower rank than First-level, etc. This may take some time to get used to, but please bear with me while I try to insert a form of personal principles into the format of a kid's story about a video game that came out years ago. Thank you.

That said, I do hope you enjoy this. Comments, complaints, and criticism are most helpful, and I'm very thankful for anyone who takes the time to point out what's wrong or could have been better---how else will I improve? ^_^ I'd prefer them to be on the writing side of things, however, and not the canon---I've had enough of those already. As I've already said, this is not a canon story, so please do keep that in mind.

A large thank-you is owed to all of those who reviewed steadily and patiently throughout my last story, taking the time and effort to explain what they did and did not like---for every chapter, no less! The absolute perfect model reviewers, Nightdragon, Nix, Fang, Dusk and Yami all reviewed as often as possible, and I appreciate it more then you all know. It's for you that I wrote this story, so I hope you find it amusing.

And so you know, 'statu quo ante' is Latin for 'the way things were'.

Enjoy.

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This story is dedicated to someone nobody here knows; and yet, if it weren't for her, this story could very possibly not have been written. For my very good friend Laura, who encouraged me, inspired me, and helped me through some very tough times, whether she knew it or not. Both her words of wisdom and her friendly help were wonderful for me to hear, and it was her encouragement and warm-hearted assurance that she would stand by my work through any non-canon horror that gave me the strength to continue writing during the one time in my life when I seriously contemplated giving up and flipping burgers for eternity. Her prayers and her faith have encouraged and inspired me when I thought I was alone. This isn't much, Laura, but I've worked very hard on it, and I hope it helps you realize just how much you mean to me as a friend, even in the short time that we've known each other---I honestly believe that our meeting was no coincidence, because it was your entering into my life that made me keep from giving up in despair. This dream is dedicated to you. God bless you, friend.

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Do not go gentle into that good night.

Old age should burn and rage at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, by Dylan Thomas

She was being chased. The thing behind her panted with horrible snarling breath, fire wreathing out of its nostrils and smoke trailing from the horns on its head. She could only run.

As usual, she found herself unable to move. Her feet felt like concrete. Looking down she realized that she was embedded up to her knees in a solid mass of it, and she was about to be thrown off a cliff by several mobsters.

The cliff was in Ireland, so there were lots of seagulls and leprechauns flying about. As she fell several of them gathered underneath her and softened her fall; they only wanted to eat her arms, though, and not save her, and so she tried to get away. She began beating at them with desperate swipes.

They beat her back, and she nearly had her wrist broken by a seagull's wing; it was as hard as a bat. Looking around she realized that all the leprechauns were holding one in each hand, and were hitting her with it. She had to run all the way to first base before she could lose them. 

Now she was in the middle of a ball diamond, and it was on a lady's necklace. Looking around, she admired the fantastic costumes and masquerade dresses that the people around her were wearing; feeling her own face, she realized she was also wearing an animal mask. Luckily she was only a cat, so she didn't have to worry about her clothes being dirty from the seagulls and leprechauns.

The host's dog began chasing her, and she ran through the tables, knocking chairs in its path; the dog, instead of falling behind or avoiding them, trampled right over them. She could hear wood crunching beneath its feet.

She was getting desperate. Her sneakers pounded against the tiled dance garden without a sound, and behind her all the dancers covered their ears and began singing. The dog was growing larger and larger, and when she looked over her shoulder at it it grinned, showing huge teeth the size of daggers. Its skin was solid rock.

She put her head down and ran hard, muscles straining tight from exertion, but the thing kept getting bigger, until finally it was the size of her family's van. She would have gotten in the van and driven away, but the monster dog crunched it under one foot. She could hear her brother scream as the metal was crushed into a tin can.

She screamed too, and a dancer picked up the can and threw it at her head. She staggered and fell. The monster towered over her, a paw planted on either side of her waist, and grinned at her. 

With a gasp, Emily sat upright, sweat beading on her forehead and fingers grasping her blanket in a death grip. Her room was bathed in moonlight and absolutely silent.

Only a nightmare.

She blinked fuzzily at her surroundings, eyes focusing on the bright neon numbers that declared it was one forty-two. After a moment of silently assuring herself it had only been a nightmare, she got up and began padding her way to her brother's room; she knew it was silly, but she wanted to make sure he was all right.

Peeking in through a crack in the door, she found him lying peacefully on his bed, one small hand next to his face, blankets drawn up around him with a mother's care. His expression was calm and content. He was fine. Only a nightmare.

In the Dream World, the nightmare had faded as she did, becoming nothing but memories as she awoke. Surroundings melted away, dancers and dance garden becoming shrubs and rolling hills. All of the fearful, twisted shapes had disappeared.

The monster had not. With a satisfied grin, it turned and padded for Mystic Forest. 

Only a nightmare.

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Rosemary for remembrance.

(The star's shining blue.)

A jonquil for color.

(The stream's kissed with dew.)

A moon for a symbol.

(The storm's made its round.)

A prayer for his passing.

(The world's fallen down.)

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Chapter One:

Statu Quo Ante 

Noon in the Dream World.

Despite their names, Nightopia and Nightmare were not necessarily dark and frightening. Especially at the moment, during broad daylight, when the woods of Mystic Forest and the far-off glistening snowcaps of Frozen Bell looked more like a scene from a postcard than a stage on which peoples' deepest fears and desires were played out. A few clouds wisped across the gorgeous sky, and Nightopians frolicked in Spring Valley, having mud fights and playing tag. Birds sang from the forest's eaves. Minions were fairly docile, relaxed after a night of powerful storm and content to perch on rocks or branches, allowing their usual prey to play unmolested. Peace reigned. 

Inside Nightmare Castle, however, it was an entirely different story. 

That story will now be told.

"What the heck is going on?"

It was a sentiment that expressed the emotions of every maren alive, Luna noted mentally. She swirled her cup, watching the hot tea inside spin in a miniature whirlpool. "I don't think anyone knows, Terrance. Even the higher-ups."

Corbeau inclined his head towards the archery teacher. "Is that why you asked us to come, Tessa? To see if anyone knew anything?"

Tessa nodded. "Comparing notes seems to be a good idea. I need something to tell my students."

Luna groaned at the remembrance of her own tutoring duties. "That's going to be interesting. What are we supposed to tell them if we don't know anything ourselves?"

"That's what I asked you here to figure out." Tessa blinked quietly at the sparring instructor. "We need to understand as much as we can so we can retain a sense of order."

"Giving the students the day off without warning didn't help much," muttered Terrance. 

"Lord Reala said it was Wizeman's order. There must have been a reason for it."

"Oh, yes, and that makes it sensible? He's not always the brightest leader, Morgen."

The Armory tender gave Terrance a look. "You'd be wise to watch your words, Terrance."

"I didn't mean it _that_ way. What's best for the mission or the better good might not be the best for the masses. He doesn't make his decisions based on how people will take it."

"I sense that we're getting off-topic."

"We ever had a topic, Dysdane?"

"We had a reason for being here in the lounge instead of watching over the students who are currently sitting around in various states of shock or holiday. And that reason was to pool what we know and make sense of it." Her narrow face took on an expression of long-suffering. "So unless you all plan on continuing your verbal sparring matches, I would appreciate returning to our original subject."

"O' course."

"You're right."

"Sorry, m'lady."

Tessa cleared her throat delicately. "Ahem. First of all, let's run over what we know. Plans were made to step over into the Waking World."

"And we were sent on a wild hunt because Wizeman realized later on that the Courage Ideya we needed were only available once every hundred years," added her brother. "All of a sudden, too, so obviously he didn't know about it earlier."

"Both of them were found," she continued, ignoring his input. "By NiGHTS and Reala, no less."

"Which is a blessed coincidence, or I'm a cob," murmured Stella.

"…true." Tessa nodded once to show her acknowledgement of the healer's observation. "Both of the dreamers were taken into Wizeman, and we were all told to prepare for our takeover of the Waking World."

"And then everything went to pot," finished Morgen. There was a moment of silence as the gathered teachers and older maren thought over the past day, several taking sips of their drink or nibbling at some scones set out on the table. Luna spoke up first.

"We know that they brought the Ideya to Wizeman, because NiGHTS flew out of the window carrying both of them." 

"Tha' was right about th' time Wizeman yelled fit t' burst some maren's eardrums an' Reala came out lookin' like he'd been slapped in th' face," inserted Stella dryly.

"Guess we can say that NiGHTS was probably stealing them, then." Corbeau sighed, running a hand through his long brown hair. "This just gets messier and messier."

"So NiGHTS heads for Mystic Forest, and Reala follows him." Terrance inspected a scone closely. "Neither of 'em came back for awhile. We sat around in the rain."

"Wonderful observation. That helps explain what happened," muttered Dysdane.

Terrance, now chewing thoughtfully, ignored her. His eyes wandered to the ceiling as he thought aloud. "The High Seekers came out of the Great Hall a little later and headed back for the master's room. I saw them. They came out a few minutes afterwards with Reala, an' he said that NiGHTS was no longer one of Wizeman's servants and that we had the day off to rest and bring things back to normal. He said the mission was delayed for a century. Clawz said that NiGHTS was in the Ideya Palace in Spring Valley. And that was it."

"Well, he was certainly informative," muttered Luna irritably. "What in the Ideya does he expect us to tell our students?"

"That NiGHTS is on vacation?" suggested Terrance sarcastically.

"You can't just let them figure things out on their own?" Amaranth's own underling, Apathy, was here with them now; he had no students to worry about.

"No," snapped Luna. "NiGHTS has obviously gone against Wizeman's will. But if we just let things fall as they may, then we risk the chance of losing what little order and respect we have."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Morgen, it is." Tessa gave the albino maren a patient explanation. "NiGHTS has, to all appearances, stolen the Ideya, been run down by Reala, and is now incarcerated for eternity."

This last sentence brought on another stretch of silence. Luna heaved a sigh and picked up the thread. "Students hearing this will obviously wonder what it was all about, and why NiGHTS went against his master's will, and why he's sealed in a little glass box for the rest of eternity. Some will wonder about it, some'll ask why he wasn't killed, someone's inevitably going to ask why he was punished in the first place, a whole bunch will probably think it was a horrific thing to do, someone's going to ask why the heck any of this happened. It's bad enough to have maren questioning their existence---always throws off their personality for a bit---but with all the tangled threads we have running through the story now, it's five times worse. We have a potential full-scale rebellion on our hands."

"Lord Reala?"

"What?" 

Clawz bobbed his head respectfully, as all of the larger High Seekers often did instead of bowing. "What are our orders for today?"

"Nothing as of yet." Reala turned away, his face tightening for a moment with an unsaid emotion. "I am going back to speak to Lord Wizeman alone. Orders will come later."

The High Seekers exchanged glances; Jackle rolled his head to one side, giggling childishly. "Well, then, guess there's no use moping about like frogs in a bog, eh?" With that he hopped off down the hall, alternately bounding in short, quick jumps and then skimming across the shir-coated floors. The other High Seekers stared after him.

Clawz cleared his throat. "What the Ideya's with him?"

"Jackle?" Reala lifted his head momentarily. "I was told he's gone insane. Judge for yourself." Without another word he left the hallway they'd gathered in.

Clawz and Puffy exchanged glances; behind them, Gillwing shifted his weight uncomfortably. "What did Reala mean?" he finally asked, his dull voice thick with worry. "Did he mean Jackle fell on his head?"  
"No, that's not what he meant," assured Clawz quickly, unsure as to why he actually cared. "He was just joking around."

"Oh." Gillwing's wings, which often acted as his equivalent to an animal's ears when showing his moods, perked up slightly. 

With a strangled noise, Puffy turned and began bouncing for the Great Hall. Clawz, with a twisted feeling in his chest, followed her.

Gillwing looked about him confusedly, suddenly finding himself deserted. 

In Spring Valley, as in the rest of Nightopia, the land was reveling in the quiet after last night's horrible storm. Plants watered by the rains now reached towards the sun with lush leaves, their branches bouncing as Nightopians flitted through with their games. High, birdlike laughter could be heard among the rustling of leaves. Several Minions lolled about on the grassy knolls or perched in the spreading trees, but their usual antics of Nightopian chasing and personal fights were strangely subdued in the face of the relaxed day. One or two were asleep.

In the middle of this spring jubilee stood a small, stone-wrought building of four columns and a rounded top. Surprisingly, the curious, chattering Nightopians and sleepy Minions paid no attention to it; it was a well-known piece of the landscape. It wasn't until a bit of movement gave away the presence of life within the structure that a Nightopian fluttered near.

"Whoa, there's someone in here!" he cried out, bringing his friends running and attracting the attention of a few Hollows and Shleep. A nearby Shleep twitched an ear interestedly, but made no other movement to interfere. The Nightopians were too busy crowding about the building and its occupant to notice. A high-pitched discussion on the nature and origin of the unknown person immediately ensued.

"It's a nightmaren!"

"He's asleep…"

"Is it a he?"

"I think."

"No, it's a she! Look at her eyes!"

"They're closed, dummy!"

"But they look like girls' eyes…"

"How can you tell? The guys and girls look the same!"

"It's a guy!"

"Girl, Nip! It's a girl!"

"Is not!"

"How did it get in there? Nightmaren can't get in those things, can they?"

"Maybe she's different!"

"Can you touch her?"

The Nightopian named Nip hesitantly put out a stubby hand toward what looked like open space between the stone pillars. Without any warning a sheet of light flashed into being between the columns and, with a surprised shriek, he was thrown back several feet. The Nightopians scattered instantly, some taking to the trees with frightened whistles or screams, others huddling in little groups. The watching Shleep chuckled.

Nip raised himself dizzily from where he'd landed, shook his round head, and then declared, "That was fun!"

This brought the others out of hiding, albeit rather slowly. A few remained in the trees, peeking out at the strange building and its invisible shield; the braver ones gathered around their comrade, spilling questions. "Are you all right?"

"What happened?"

"What was it like?"

"That was fun?"

Nip got up woozily, rubbing his eyes with balled hands to try and clear his vision. "Yeah! Did you see me? I went flying!"

The assembled group looking towards the building once more, and now one of the braver ones fluttered his way closer. He looked at the empty space between the pillars for a long time, the others all watching in breathless anticipation. Finally he reached out tentatively.

"Yeeeeeeeeow!"

Nightopians ducked as he went flying back overhead, crashing into a tree with various sounds of branches snapping and leaves rustling. After a moment, his dizzy but triumphant face looked back out from the branches. "Whoooo…that was fun!"

Several more Nightopians began heading for the building, reassured now that two had survived the trip. The nearby Shleep, joined soon by a pair of Hollows, began laughing as Nightopians were hurled far and wide with assorted cries of excitement. Soon the entire group was busy taking rides by throwing themselves at the invisible barrier.

Pain in his head, pain in his wrist, dark…thick dark. He felt like he was drowning in the black around him. He struggled to reach out, find light, find something solid; anything. He felt a rush around him like he was heading towards the surface of a pond, and he thought he could distinguish daylight rippling above the surface. With a heave of effort he broke through.

NiGHTS moaned as he opened his eyes, sound rumbling through his head and pain in his wrist. The first thing he saw was several Nightopians rushing at him, only to be hit with a flash of something bright and ferociously propelled backwards with yells of happiness. An entire group of them followed suit.

After a moment of staring blankly, he closed his eyes again. _'By the fifth Ideya, I really shouldn't have bothered getting up.'_


	2. Red Sky At Night

AN: Sorry for the long wait, minna. We had a little problem with the PC and some spy ware, along with the renowned Pop-up Ad Attack Of Death And Major Annoyance, and I haven't been able to get up and post. Here's the next chapter.

And don't worry---now that I'm off Frankie and back on our nice new PC (that doesn't have a title yet, but I promise to fix that soon, ha) I'm not waiting until I get a certain number of notices that people have read the latest chapter---known as reviews---before I put up the next one. Keep in mind, however, that seeing a message labeled "Fanfiction.net Review Alert" in my e-box will remind me to put up another chapter. SUBTLE HINT here.

Aaaaaaand Spike is now trying to chew my brother's GameCube consol to bits, so I'm going to go put a stop to that before Bass fries the poor bog in the name of GameCube Protection. *wanders out*

Disclaimer: "I wasn't trying to HURT him, I was just blowing his head off!"---Bass

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Red sky at night,

Sailors' delight.

Red sky at morning,

Sailors take warning.

Old American Verse

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Chapter Two:

Red Sky At Morning

AC was taking a nap when the door to Jackle's room opened, and the demi-maren himself came through. He bounded past the crow, who was pulling his head from under his wing and blinking sleepily, to bounce onto the balcony. He laughed, white teeth gleaming; then he glanced over his shoulder at AC. "Come on out, sleepy-head! Are you going to sit in there all day?"

AC cawed a retort as he flew to the railing, where he perched and blinked bad-temperedly at the demi-maren. Jackle laughed again and bent down to be eye to eye. "Don't you get enough sleep during the night?"

Were he able to talk, AC probably would have retorted by saying, 'Not with you around!'. As it was, he made do with fluffing himself angrily and beginning a systematic, calculatingly slow preening of his wings, pointedly ignoring Jackle. The demi-maren chuckled. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry I interrupted your nap! Geez, a guy can't get happy around here without having the whole world snap at him…"

He paused, staring out at the land below them confusedly. "So what was I happy about? This whole week's been pot---why was I so happy?"

Another pause; then he answered himself. "It was just so much fun bouncing down the halls like that. Guess I just got happy."

"Over bouncing down the hall?"

"Yeah!" He laughed, a high, breathless tenor. "You jump up and then you come down with a little oomph, but as soon as you get to the 'm' you're already bouncing up again! And…"

AC rubbed his forehead against his wing feathers in several quick strokes, then looked up at Jackle, still blinking. He cawed once, and Jackle stopped talking about bouncing. "What?"

AC cocked his head to one side, looking expectant. Jackle paused; then he cocked his head as well. "You're hungry?"

The crow shook his head. Jackle tried again. "Saw something interesting?"

Another shake of the ebony head. "You want to talk about the day? Know what's going on?"

AC bobbed his head quickly, and Jackle's face broke into a smile of relief. "Oh, okay! Well, hm. Lessee. I was gone a long time, you know…" His companion bobbed again, agreeing with him. "So after you and I talked for a bit, I went to Wizeman's throne room 'cause he called all us High Seekers, right?"

Another bob. "Yeah. Well we got there and he said we were gonna take over the Waking World and told us how great it was and all…and then what would you know but NiGHTS jumps up, grabs the two Ideya, and takes off out the window! He said it was because a whole universe made out to Wizeman's image would be too boring or something like that…ha." He laughed. "The others actually _fell_ for it, too! They don't have the slightest clue why he took off…they all think he's always been a traitor or something. Poor saps, it's so painfully obvious."

AC looked up at his friend, eyes glinting in agreement. Jackle sighed cheerily, leaning onto the railing, hands clasped in front of him loosely. "Oh well…I suppose we can't all be observant, eh? Still, it's such a great joke." He chuckled. "Wizeman having to wait a whole 'nother hundred years, and everyone all wondering why, like the answer hasn't been staring 'em all in the face for the past three weeks! Whoo, what a joke!" He threw back his head and laughed.

AC cawed his own version of merriment, agreeing with every word.

_'I miss my brother.'_

"What shall I do now, my lord?"

Two great stone hands drifted down slowly, turning slightly to face the Seeker General standing before his ruler. Wizeman's voice was low. "Explain your question."

_'My brother's gone and I have no idea what to do and the whole thing's destroyed and I lost my brother and everything's falling and my brother's trapped in a little room for the rest of his life and nothing's right and I've lost my brother.'_

"Now that the mission…" He faltered. "…now that it is delayed for a century, what shall I do in the meantime? Shall I maintain our current schedule?"

The great glassy eyes blinked slowly, a sign that Wizeman was thinking. "I am still considering this."

_'Say it the way it is You have no idea what to do because everything's fallen apart and you just threw away my brother!'_

"Is there anything you wish me to do while you consider?"

"Yes." Wizeman paused, running over all of the options he'd been considering ever since Reala had brought an unconscious NiGHTS to him, the rebellious maren slumped in his brother's arms. "Keep the schedule. All this means is more time for us to build up our strength. Have the younger maren continue to learn, and the older generations to practice. Make training a priority in readiness for the next Courage dreamers. Ideya gathering may be replaced by education for the most part. By the time the convergence comes once again, we will be ready."

_'Sure we'll be ready but NiGHTS won't be there.'_

"As you wish, my lord." Reala bowed deeply, turned, and stalked out.

Behind him, Wizeman pondered the newer turn of events carefully. Reala was strangely distant, as if he were only half paying attention; not surprising, considering all that he was still trying to grasp a hold of. At the same time, he was certainly a bit more uncertain in his straightforwardness, and Wizeman had a suspicion that the night's events were not the only reason. He himself felt it; a vague, almost distant unsettlement, like a low-lying feeling of queasiness that spread throughout the earth of the Dream World, a net of uncomfort and disturbance. For some odd reason, it reminded him of the aftershocks of an earthquake. Try as he might, he couldn't actually locate the source of the problem; only a nebulous feeling of innate unwellness that stretched throughout the entire realm. He could not for the life of him distinguish what it was. Disturbing.

Leaving Wizeman's throne room, Reala found himself rubbing his chest; a burning irritation had begun bothering him. He'd been caught up in the night's dealings, but he was fairly sure the soreness had begun some time after midnight. It wasn't serious, just a small warm feeling in his chest; still, it was annoying. He'd never had heartburn before, and this somehow felt different anyway.

He rubbed at it again, frustrated with having a physical affliction while he was still trying to regain his mental balance after last night. Everything seemed a bit hazy now. He'd felt so sure of what they were doing as a group, as an army; and yet now, with just a simple act of thievery, everything had fallen apart. It wasn't that simple, actually, he considered as he sat down outside Wizeman's door, too busy trying to understand what was going on and too annoyed by his aching chest to bother with appearances. NiGHTS had gone against everything---everything. He'd deliberately taken away their ability to carry through with their mission.

_'Why?' _whispered his mind.

He didn't know. Last night he'd been furious, blinded to all else by his consuming rage, his disbelief, his shock. His brother hadn't only betrayed him, he'd betrayed them all. He wanted nothing more than to grab NiGHTS by his hair and throw him into utter oblivion.

But now, in the bright daylight, when the castle was beginning to function properly once more, he had to wonder. Why had NiGHTS done what he did? What was the point? He said something about Wizeman being wrong; Reala couldn't remember much of what had been said, he'd been too focused on gaining revenge to bother with small talk. Well, so Wizeman wasn't always the best ruler. That wasn't a reason to rebel, right?

Didn't he say something about people dying? Well, Reala didn't want unnecessary deaths either; but really, what could you expect in war? Was NiGHTS trying to be some sort of idealist? 

_'Maybe he's just crazy.' _Reala shook his head once, trying to clear his thoughts; they seemed to dance about without his control, always flitting away before he could grasp onto them. He felt very confused. _'What's wrong with him? Why's there something wrong? Why did all this happen?'_

"By the Ideya, what's wrong with me?" he snarled, leaping to his feet in anger. His chest throbbed harshly in retaliation, and he was forced to pause, rubbing it tenderly, head bowed. 

_'I can't let this go on,' _he decided mentally. _'I'm the Seeker General. I can't allow myself to get confused and caught up in emotions---the entire nightmaren race is counting on me to be a strong leader. I have to stay focused. I can't become weak.'_

He straightened and began marching down the hall, head high, hands at his sides. Inwardly, he felt himself wanting to go back to what had happened, to evaluate it from all sides until he could make sense of it, to study it quietly in a corner until he understood how it worked. But he couldn't. He made his mind walk past the room where the memories and questions sat, forcing it to keep from even glancing at the door. There. When he imagined it like that, it wasn't so hard not to feel confused. He just didn't go near that door.

A wry smirk slowly touched his jagged mouth, and silently he began running over what he would say to the teachers in in connection to what they should now do.

But his chest still burned, murmuring with a vague uneasiness that seemed to reach out from his heart and spread out across a very large distance.

"So, anyone have any idea what the heck's going on?"

"I know that we've been given the day off," drawled Heckler. "That's good enough for me."

"Sure, for you, but some of us can't shut out all important happenings and focus on our own selfish little world as well as you can," retorted Insomnia. "And 'some of us' means all of us except for you. And we want to know what's going on."

Heckler pointedly ignored him. The rest of the students gathered about exchanged glances; finally Nyct spoke. "Anyone hear anything from the teachers?"

"No." Insomnia sounded disappointed. "They're all holed up in the teachers' lounge, talking in whispers. Even Amaranth and Tynan are in there."

"Whoof." Emil slumped down on a stone bench next to Aniline, rubbing his wounded arm absent-mindedly. "A golgoth attacks, NiGHTS takes off, and now all of the adults are locked in their little room whispering. Something's up, that's for sure."

"A pity we don't know what it is." Aniline slid further down on her seat.

"S'no different from the normal round of things," muttered Jitters. "We never know what's going on around here until it hits us in the face."

"Yeah, I wasn't told I was going into the lancers until the day before."

"Reala shuffled us all around with only a day's warning," reminded Strix quietly. His sister Varia swallowed unpleasantly.

"Yeah. I wasn't told I was going to be taking care of a bunch of bloody people in advance."

"Complaining about it isn't going to make things better," observed PM quietly. As usual, his words of wisdom were greeted with various groans and cries for mercy.

"PM!"

"Aw, shut up, PM."

"Oh, great, doesn't that make everything fine!"

"Thanks, now we feel a lot better!"

"You think, PM?"

Postmeridian winced and sheltered his chest with one hand as if to ward off the verbal blows. Chaotica whapped Heckler over the back of the head. "Knock it off, moron."

Heckler did so, shrugging his shoulders in a 'What would you have me do?' gesture. Chaotica chuckled and leaned over the back of the bench, looking at Varia; her voice became more serious as she changed the topic. "How's Aster?"

The girl swallowed, memories of the wounds she'd treated several days ago still fresh in her mind. "All right. Miss Stella says that she'll be fine in a few days after she gets over the concussion effects…but she says there's no hope for her eye."

The group fell silent under this grim reminder. Jitters cleared her throat hesitantly. "Is she---y'know---scarred for life?"

Strix placed a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder as her face turned a bit pale. "No, not really," she replied. "But her eye's lost almost all color…I'm not sure why. Miss Stella says it's something with the nerves or something…"

"Nerve endings." Strix took up the explanation almost without thinking. "If the blow hit near her eye, it probably damaged the nerve endings. I'm not sure why it lost its color, though."

"And it's not all of it, either." Something about speaking to her brother seemed to calm the healer in training down, as her face returned to its normal color. "There's still a little bit of pale blue, like most of the color washed out or something. It's like her eye was bleached. I've never seen anything like it."

Strix frowned absently. "Neither have I. But then, I haven't seen many serious wounds like that---usually all we have to treat are training wounds and Minion scratches. Nothing as serious as that."

"Strix!"

The boy jerked his head up, looking for whoever had called his name. "What?" Around him, the gathered teens all focused on the maren who'd called for him.

A young girl was streaking across the courtyard, hair streaming behind her in a tangled mess, her tattered clothes rippling in the wind caused by her desperate flight. Her eyes were wide in fright. "Strix!"

Strix slipped into her path, hoping to stop her from harming herself by hitting something. "What? What's happened?"

The girl pulled up just in time to keep from colliding with him, and instantly began sobbing. "There's been another attack!"

"Lord Reala?"

The maren in question gave a 'hm' sound that could be translated as a command to continue speaking, or at least the messenger hoped so. He cleared his throat. "Miss Luna sent me to find you, sir. Shall I tell her I've found you?"

"Hn." Reala gave another small breath of sound, this one meant to express his annoyance rather then act as an answer. _'What does that maren want now?'_

He looked back down at his book, realizing after a moment that the messenger was still present, waiting respectfully for an answer. "Yes, tell her to come here," he said, not looking up.

"No need to, Emil." The sparring instructor stood in the doorway, expression set, her eyes filled with a strange emotion Emil couldn't quite pin down. She gave him a nod and jerked her head towards the door. Emil bowed politely and left, closing the door to Reala's room on his way out.

Luna turned to face her superior only to find him solemnly perusing a book, his attention focused solely on the writing therein. She waited for a moment, then cleared her throat; her message was too urgent to wait until the general decided to notice her. "Lord Reala, there are some disturbing events you need to know about…"

"If it's anything less than another rebelling maren, chances are I don't," he muttered, closing the book and finally giving her a glance. "Is it important?"

"Very much, sir."

"Very well, then, what is it?"

"We've…had another attack, sir."

"What?" He gave her a calculating look. His tone, when he spoke, had changed from bored leader to full-blooded general. "What happened? When?"

"Just a short time past, we believe…"

"You believe?"

"We're not sure, actually. All we know is that there's another dangerous creature out there."

"Is that it?"

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

He looked back down at his book. "We purged the dream world of hundreds of beasts in earlier years, Luna. One more isn't going to matter."

"But sir, if there's one, that means there's more, and several dream beasts---"

"I did say hundreds, did I not?"

"But this is dangerous---"

Fed up, he whirled on her, glaring. "What makes you think this is so critical?"

Finally, a question she had a good answer to. Luna swallowed, still feeling a small tightness in her stomach at the thought.

"They've killed a maren."


	3. The Blue Curtain

AN: *bows* Many thanks to both of yi', Nix and Fang! A chapter for a review, y'know---enjoy.

Disclaimer: "So we get to put up another chapter. Well bucket o' joy and a sloppy fish."---AC

Disclaimer Num. 2: "*snif* But I LIKE it when I get to put up a chapter!!"---Avis

Disclaimer Num. 3: "…Lord, why was I dropped in a house with these morons? Why?"---Bass

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La vie est vaine;

Un peu d'amour,

Un peu de haine…

Et puis---bon jour.

La vie est breve;

Un peu d'espoir,

Un peu de reve…

Et puis---bon soir.

Peu de chose et Presque trop, by Leon de Montenaeken. 

{Life is vain; 

A little love, 

A little hate…

And then---Good day. 

Life is short; 

A little hoping, 

A little dreaming…

And then---Good night.}

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Chapter Three:

The Blue Curtain

The boy dead was Ernest, age ninety-two; only a teenager. He was a swordsman recently moved to the archery divisions for his slight build. Young, but relatively experienced, he would have put up a fight.

The body indicated he had. His hand still grasped a sword---what was left of one. The blade had been snapped off near the hilt, and he was left grasping a broken weapon. His grip was like a vise even in death; his knuckles were white. His bow was still hanging unused at his back.

There seemed to be no good reason for his demise. He'd lived long enough to have learned some sense; he would not have pointlessly attacked a beast that had the power to kill him so easily. Yet the body was relatively unharmed, apart from a superficial gash in his side and the killing blow to his chest. Whatever had taken his life did not do it for food. The killing was pointless.

The body was now lying in a partitioned section of the Infirmary, waiting for burial. Maren subconsciously lowered their voices as they went past the door in respect for the dead. Varia had broken down sobbing when he was brought in, and was now being soothed by Stella in another room.

Luna had known Ernest relatively well. He was young, but intelligent, a fast thinker and very obedient; liked among the younger generations. She'd had high hopes for his career. Now he was dead.

Moving through the youths' barracks with Reala on their way to the Infirmary, she found herself disturbed by the very pointlessness of the boy's death. A being that killed for food could be understood, a being that killed for protection of territory or feelings of a threat could be reasoned with or worked around. But a being that killed pointlessly, with no known reasons for aggravation, meant a difficult threat to assess and then take control of. The fact that an unexpected attack had happened twice within a very few days was another reason for worry.

Not the mention that it made the boy's death utterly pointless.

"By all rights they shouldn't even be here," she muttered. She had the disturbing suspicion that the creature who was responsible for Ernest's death was another golgoth. Stella had, with some degree of sickness, inspected the dead boy's body; the killing blow had crushed his heart, and he most likely died almost instantly. She was glad for that. The unsettling part was the fact that the wound itself resembled nothing closer than the Gao bite Emil had been under her care for only a few days ago. The wound was crusted with both dried blood and, alarmingly, a few pebbles. She confided her discovery to Luna alone, trusting the sparring instructor's judgment on what to do with the information; Luna resultantly found herself saddled with the responsibility of figuring out what to do. After some thought she wisely decided to go to Reala and lay the thing in his hands.

It had taken a bit of persuasion, but he'd consented to come and see the suspicious wound for himself. She hoped he would know what to do after that.

Upon entering the Infirmary, they were greeted by a solemn-looking Stella; Varia was nowhere to be seen, having abandoned her post at the Infirmary once the body was brought in. Luna had thought she could hear muffled sniffling coming from the Fire Hall as they passed.

The healer nodded once to Reala, giving Luna a small smile. Time was not wasted on pleasantries. "Where is he?"

"Behind th' curtain, milard." She nodded towards a blue curtain that had been erected around a corner of the room, normally used for a patient's privacy. Reala strode over and disappeared behind the cloth.

Luna looked back to the healer, her voice quiet. "How's Varia?"

"Eh, gettin' on," replied Stella non-committally. "She's still havin' trouble graspin' ahold of it, y'know. She thought we weren't goin' t' have any more problems with attacks, and now what with Lord NiGHTS, and then this…"

"Understandable," murmured Luna. "She has every right to be upset. What did you do with the rest of them?" She gestured to the empty beds about them, beds that had originally been occupied by casualties from the last attack.

"Sent 'em out." A wry smile touched the healer's face. "I told 'em they could come back when they thought they needed a change of dressing, but not b'fore. None of 'em were really bad, anyway…apart from Aster. And you, Miss Luna." The title of respect was stated sarcastically, a sly reprimand. "You weren't suppos't t' be out for another few days."

"I couldn't let my kids go out to battle alone," protested Luna.

"I know, I know. 'Tis better this way, anyhow. I didn't want any of 'em t' be here with---y'know." She nodded towards the stark blue curtain.

Luna nodded as well, glancing towards the subject of their whispered conversation just in time to see the cloth pushed aside as Reala left the enclosed space, looking to the side in thought. He raised his head and met her gaze, and she saw from the weary look in his eyes that he finally grasped the seriousness of the situation. She would have felt a small twinge of triumph if she hadn't known what lay behind the blue curtain.

She looked at him expectantly. "What do you want me to do?"

He sighed. "Nothing as of now. I need to speak to Lord Wizeman about this."

"Of course."

He passed her silently. Stella shook her head knowingly. "I tell yi, Luna, we're in for a pretty large headache."

"Isn't that the truth. Already were, anyway, so it's not like this will do anything more than make things tougher." 

"An' the problem is, we don't know what t' expect."

Luna looked back to the blue curtain, and said nothing.

Reala strode purposefully down the hall, ignoring the hustle and clamor around him of maren hanging out and comparing rumors. Many of them looked to him as he passed, hoping for answers; he gave them none. He had more important things to attend to.

The young maren's death was disquieting. One golgoth had been a problem that could be worked around and then forgotten; they were supposedly extinct, but it was believable that it had managed to hide from the hunting parties that had scoured the dream world until only a few decades back. But two was simply something that could not be ignored. If there were truly some of the dreambeasts still left, then the scouting practices and training missions run every day could quickly turn into casualties, and then it would be some time before the Hunters could be brought together again…

Distracted with this new problem as he was, it was no surprise that he never even noticed Jackle until they nearly collided. He jerked his head up and glared at the demi-maren. "Watch where you're going, Jackle."

"Sorry, Reala." Jackle bobbed a sort of half-bow, and continued bouncing happily down the hall. Reala paused to stare after him. That demi-maren…

The doors were heavy with wrought iron worked into their stone faces, but thankfully a small wooden plate had been imbedded in one of them for the sake of maren knuckles. It was this plate that Reala rapped on with focused quickness, knowing he needed to speak to his master quickly. Wizeman's voice, when it rang out in answer, was low in a thoughtful tone. "Enter."

Reala gave the doors a push, following them as they opened inward, and moving quietly to the foot of his master's throne. He bowed smoothly, then straightened. "Lord Wizeman."

A pair of stone hands drifted down to meet him, one on either side, their eyes questioning. "Why have you come before me, Reala?"

"There has been an unexpected occurrence," replied Reala quietly.

The hands turned slightly to look at each other, almost as if they were conferring. Wizeman's voice was not edged with interest as a nightmaren's would be, but Reala knew the ruler's curiosity had been piqued. "And what is this unexpected occurrence?"

"Another maren was attacked in the woods."

Two more hands floated down to gaze at him. "Explain. What happened?"

"We do not know much, my lord. One of the younger sword fighters, recently moved to the archers. He was, apparently, out alone after the mission was called off…" His voice faltered slightly, and Wizeman noted a brief flash of conflicting emotions in the general's eyes. He hadn't had much time to process the night's events. "One of the other archers noticed he was missing, and the archery instructor, Tessa, sent out a small search party. They found the missing boy's body in the northern parts of Mystic Forest, near Frozen Bell and the mountains. He was…killed in an odd way. The body seemed to be mostly untouched, but a large bite-mark was centered around his heart. I inspected it closely, and I believe he was killed by a golgoth."

The four hands edged a bit closer. "Why?"

"The pattern of the teeth and their placement on the jaw was very close to that I remember of the golgoth; also, I found several pebbles embedded in the wound." 

Here he held a hand up towards his leader, spread flat; the pairs of hands drew close to see what he was proffering. Several small, crumbling pebbles lay in his palm.

"These are much like the stone of the golem," said Wizeman, after a moment of silently studying the small stones. Reala nodded.

"Yes, but the bite was far too narrow and long to be a golem. I honestly think a golgoth was the boy's killer."

"I see." The hands pulled away, floating at a small distance apart in thought. For a moment Wizeman was silent, and Reala waited patiently.

Finally one of the hands waved leisurely. "Well handled, Reala. Your observations are astute. From this point on no nightmaren is allowed outside the walls without a partner. Inform me as soon as anything else concerning this topic is revealed."

"Of course, my lord." Reala bowed.

"You may leave."

"Thank you, my lord."

As he left, Wizeman's hand drifted up to his face, providing a resting place for his chin; a thoughtful posture that he didn't need, but fell into absentmindedly. A vague unsettlement in the air, and another appearance of a golgoth; this did not bode well at all.

Ernest's burial was a quiet affair. He was laid to rest on the fringes of Spring Valley, and many friends gathered to see it done. Several teachers who had him in their classes also attended; the rest of the younger population stayed away, unsure of what they should do at such a time. Death was not something many of them had ever had to face before. The older maren, those who had been around back when fighting was still a common occurrence, kept to themselves.

Once the last words were said, and several flowers and other trinkets were placed at the base of the stone marker that Amaranth had chiseled, the group went back to Nightmare. No one wandered off to think alone. Somewhere nearby, NiGHTS was imprisoned in the Ideya Palace. 

His plight was nearly forgotten in the shadow of Ernest's death, but not entirely. The fallen leader's name was whispered among the younger maren every so often, and one or two glanced around at the surrounding vegetation stealthily, hoping to perhaps catch a glance of the nightmaren who had become a traitor overnight. They did not see him.

Night. Darkness crept softly over Nightmare Castle, soothing the weary minds and restless bodies of the nightmaren living there; a time to sleep, a time to forget. A time to regain strength in readiness for a new day, a time to take a breath and allow worries to be placed in a musty corner of the mind until tomorrow.

For some, a time to think.

Jackle leaned over his balcony, arms folded, wearing only his cloak and shoes; his hat and gloves had been discarded without a thought, and they lay on the floor in a crumpled heap. The faint light of the rising moon spiked across them in thin dusty streaks, flashes of red and yellow standing out among the dim, shadowed cloth. 

The demi-maren was watching the moon rise, its path too slow for the eye to follow and yet visible in after-effect. His crow friend was perched next to him, as still as stone, black eyes gleaming with unsettling intelligence. The silence between them was the comfortable well-worn quiet of good friends.

Jackle inhaled, running a hand through the short, now-invisible locks that tumbled messily about his forehead. "Shards, I just want to go jump off a cliff."

AC cawed, which Jackle was willing to take as encouragement to go on. "It's just…so confusing. Everything. It'd be soooooo much easier just to go leap off a cliff and hit he ground so hard that'cha never woke up. Like really really hard. Wham." He flicked at a crumbling stone corner to illustrate his point, sending a tiny pebble falling to oblivion and the grass a long way below. 

AC, had he had any visible eyebrows, would have raised one. As it was he merely cocked his head to the side, his version of giving someone an incredulous look. Jackle shrugged and slumped lower on the railing. "I mean NiGHTS is stuck in Spring Valley, and why the heck would Wizeman put him there? Why didn't he just…you know…whop his head off? Why didn't he just talk to him if he wanted to keep him? Why's he just stuck him in the middle of some grass?"

His fingers rubbed slowly at the damaged corner, studiously chafing away small nuggets of rock that fell away into the gathering darkness below. "And Reala's uptight like everything, I mean nothing. Like a lot. And the others are all confused. But they have NO idea what confusion's like." Jackle spread his arms wide, beginning to spin in circles, head tipped to the sky. "Confusion's like when you're all covered by dark and there's no way out and no-one's there and there are these little nice voices in your head but a big voice keeps driving them out! Stupid big voice. But the little voices are nice, and they keep things company there, so it doesn't feel so empty and close and dark anymore. Voices are fun, but they're hard to understand. And I know a secret nobody knows. Nobody at all. I like shadows, you know that?"

AC bobbed his head once.

"Yeah, I like them too. Maren say they're scary and dark and evil, but they're not! You hafta have light to have darkness, you know. It's a nice balance. Dark I don't like. Do you?"

AC shook his head.

"Yeah, I thought so. I mean black's pretty and all, but dark is spooky when you can't get out of it---then it all gets in your clothes and ears and eyes and noses and mouths and minds and it takes for-EVER to get out again…and all these little streaks get stuck in your mind, you know? All streaky and stuff. And then you have to go stare at the sun to blaze 'em out again. What were we talking about again?"

AC pulled his head back slightly, doing his best shrug possible. Jackle paused and thought about it for a moment, leaning on the balcony railing again. He brushed absently at a strand of indiscernible hair that had fallen in his eyes.

"Oh yeah, I remember. Jumping off a cliff. 'Cause everything's so confusing." He leaned forward, a pleased smile coming to his face at the remembrance. "That was it. M'kay, so everything's really confusing. And I don't know what these people are thinking. Say, that's a nice breeze coming through…isn't it?"

The crow beside him turned his head, head-feathers flicking up in the motion as the wind brushed through them, making a brief headdress of ebony. He bobbed once, and Jackle leaned further into the gust, eyes closing in enjoyment. "Mmmm…that's a fresh one. Wind's always so nice after a storm, huh? All clean and fresh. I like it before a storm, too. Did I mention today was confusing?"

AC nodded. Jackle smiled and relaxed, his stomach pressed against the balcony railing, head hanging down and invisible hair ruffling in the wind. He was nearly horizontal. "Just wanted to make sure! Whoo, here's the blood…" His eyes closed as the blood began traveling to his head, making things feel thick and warm. A buzzing sensation slowly settled on his brain. The wind cooled his skin, and he sighed in happiness. He was floating in a tingling state of silence, warmth and coolness running around in circles on his skin, held in a thick embrace of air. Nirvana.

AC stretched, wings extending up above his shoulders, then standing on either foot, one at a time, to distend that wing out to its full length. Jackle, drunk with his humming position of near-unconsciousness, did not take notice.

With a deep intake of breath, he flipped himself back upright, feet hitting the floor with a quiet thud; and immediately stumbled back into the wall, sliding down its surface to rest in a little heap on the floor, hands limp between his knees. His head lolled to one side as he grinned lopsidedly at his friend. "Uhnnn…'scuse me if I pass out," he mumbled.

In reply, AC jumped from his perch on the railing and hopped over, bouncing in the curious gait of a crow to the demi-maren's side, where he flapped up to Jackle's knee. Jackle smiled as the crow shuffled a bit and then squatted and fluffed out, making himself comfortable as if he were going to sleep. "Thanks, AC."

His slightly unfocused eyes wandered up to the night sky, where the moon was now riding high. "Look, AC. Mistress Moon's gotten far on her walk, hasn't she?" 

The crow allowed the heavenly light a brief look, and nodded sleepily. Huddled in a corner on his balcony, mind humming with tingling warmth, Jackle fell asleep.

In Spring Valley, the moon's light was largely un-hindered, trees being few; its light shone brightly across the dream. A slight wind remained from yesterday's storm, but it was only a breeze.

In his prison, NiGHTS was sitting on the cold stone platform, knees drawn to his chest and arms locked about them, not so much as protection from the cold but to try and keep his heart from falling apart. A whole day of sitting in silence, doing nothing. A whole day of being alone, of thinking, of pondering what had happened. A whole day of thought. It had taken forever to pass.

A whole day.

That was what really frightened him, he'd decided. He'd run over everything that had happened until his thoughts were like a song being sung over and over again, always the same, never changing, and he knew how the song ended. Over and over and over. Nothing ever changed.

Things were hard to accept, but he'd realized that he had a long time to accept them. And so, perhaps because his mind knew that there were easier things to grasp a hold of, perhaps because it figured he'd had enough mental pain, or perhaps just because it was being stubborn, it had sealed the memories and feelings and thoughts under a glass plate, where NiGHTS could see them, remember them, think over them, move around them---but couldn't feel them. He found himself able to ponder everything, even his brother's pain and fury, without much hurt. His mind had sealed away that serpent's bite for another time and place.

NiGHTS wasn't really sure of it all; all he knew was that he could accept what had happened, and he could continue on with life. That was where the next problem started.

What life was there to live?

He'd been here one day. One day. In that one day, he had run over every single thought he could come up with, pondering things, running over reactions and expressions and conversations and trying to look at what had just happened from all angles. He was fairly calm.

He was also extremely, horribly bored.

That was what scared him. This had been one day. What would he be like on the twentieth? The hundredth? Thousandth? He feared losing it; becoming a raving maniac, singing at the top of his lungs, beating himself pointlessly against the stubborn walls that stung slightly every time he touched them. Screaming at every maren and creature who passed by; hurting himself for fun. He was afraid of going insane.

_'Although perhaps it wouldn't be that bad after all,' _he thought, picking absently at the cloth surrounding that cursed shard that refused to be pulled away from his chest. _'I mean, Jackle's lost it, hasn't he? He was acting a bit vacant when---' _His mind paused, allowing him to eye the memory through the glass case, scanning lines and pictures until he came to the part of the story he was looking for. _'When Reala and I were bringing in those two dreamers. He acted a bit light-headed, but fine otherwise. I wonder…was he really insane? I never really thought about it before. He seemed pretty much the same. It that what insane is? Will I be like that, when I've been in here too long? And how long is too long, I wonder? Years? Decades? Centuries?'_

'Or perhaps I won't go insane. Perhaps I'll just sit here and wait forever, and when the end finally comes, if it ever does, I'll still be sitting here. Staring at that same blasted tree.'

The tree did not seem to return his ill will, as it had grown in a particularly odd shape, with the result that an opening of leaves allowed the moon's light to beam down on the Ideya Palace. NiGHTS began tracing a finger along the edge of his shadow, watching as his skin was suffused with light and then darkened by shade as he moved it back and forth. _'I don't think I can even starve to death. I haven't felt hungry yet…I wonder if Wizeman the Witless has something to do with that.'_

"Ha," he said out loud. "See, I called you Wizeman the Witless. And you didn't do anything, did you? You don't even know I did it. And if you did, what could you do about it? Wizeman the Moron! The Cheat! The Evil Overlord Wannabe who can't even control his own creations! Wizeman the MONSTER!"

He sucked in a breath, quieting. _'Dear Ideya, I'm already talking to myself.'_

NiGHTS was silent as the moon for the rest of the night. It was late, and he was tired; despite his fear, he fell asleep.

He dreamed of playing children and a girl who sang.


	4. Someone Is Falling

AN: *claps her hands delightedly* Nix, have you any idea how much your reviews mean to me? Both I AND my grammar-obsessed mother missed both of those---and you were perfectly right. Thank you so much!

Due to Nix's help with the last chapter, and also due to the fact that they were the ones (okay, so Nix was the one) who reviewed and so made me post this, this chapter is dedicated to both Nix and Fang. Enjoy, you two.

__

Why did I dedicate this to them? Simple. Because, while Nix and Fang very good friends of mine, I've also found something in both of them that's hard to find; un-bitter, honest, and friendly reviewers. I should, technically, write two dedications, since I'm speaking about two people here, but Fang and Nix are so often together---and they ply their trade so often together---that it's quite hard to separate them.

Fang is sweet, warm, and always ready with a compliment and a note, even if the work isn't your best; her outgoing kindness makes you feel as if, yes, you ARE worth something as an author, and what's more Fang believes in you, so what can you NOT accomplish? She's an encouragement and a cheerleader, and you can always count on her to find something good about your writing. Her sweetness and humor are matchless.

Fang's good-willed love is balanced out by Nix, who is something that I have met only once or twice elsewhere in the great, wide expanse of the net: an intelligent, open, brutally honest and good-natured critic. If there's a fault in your grammar or your storyline, there's a good chance Nix will find it, and what's more he's not afraid to point it out to you even at the loss of his own reputation. This may sound slightly strange to trumpet as a good thing---after all, we want praise, don't we?---but for me, a person who is hoping to make a living out of writing and therefore wants to improve, this is something special that is both hard to come by and as precious as gold. In Nix you have the ultimate critic, who holds no grudge towards you and who, if he thinks you deserve it, will lavish you with congratulations. 

It's no wonder these two review together more often than not; as a pair, they manage to point out everything, both good and bad, and leave you feeling satisfied. If there's anyone who has reviewing down to an art, it's Nix and Fang.

For you both.

Time drops in decay,

Like a candle burnt out,

And the mountains and the woods

Have their day, have their day;

What one in the rout

Of the fire-born moods,

Has fallen away?

The Moods, by W. B. Yeats

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Chapter Four:

Someone Is Falling

The kitchens were a busy place. Food was constantly being prepared, utensils were constantly being washed and put away and then taken out again a few moments later, onlookers and bite-snatchers were constantly being shooed out. Unlike the rest of the castle, where orderliness meant good marks, here there was a general sense of good-natured chaos, especially obvious to one who was merely looking in the window. Contrary to appearance, however, things were actually quite well set up; gatherers brought in the food needed for breakfast either early in the morning or the night before, and the preparers began working in the young hours of the day. By the time the rest of the castle was up, the ones responsible for setting out the food and such, usually younger maren, had done their duty, and the cooking utensils from breakfast were being washed up. Near the tail end of breakfast the second round of gathered harvest was brought in, and the entire process was started all over again.

Despite the fact that this was all well thought out and everything usually got done on time, it is a fact, probably scientifically proven, that cooking and baking and cleaning and preparing food for several hundred people can simply not be done flawlessly in one enclosed space, even if that space is the size of a small warehouse. Things always managed to get burned, and pans always managed to get misplaced, and food always managed to get ruined somehow or other; a perfectionist wouldn't have stood a chance working in a kitchen of this size and chaos amount. Which is probably the reason why all of the kitchen workers seemed to be bright, artistic people, always willing to take a chance and experiment. More then once this had resulted in a meal that was less than stellar, but that was once in a blue moon; these maren knew what they were doing. They'd been doing it for quite some time, after all.

Just because the kitchen attendants had to be fairly bright and good-natured didn't mean that the gatherers had to be. Out at late nights or early hours, they tended to drop their burdens and leave, unless something extremely good happened to be cooking. Who could blame them?

Tyler, however, was always bad-tempered, even when he'd gotten a good night's sleep, so Chaotica was not at all surprised when the brown-haired maren shoved his basket onto the table and waited impatiently for her to approve of his bringing before slumping off. She gave the flap cake she was making a flip and hurried over to check, knowing she didn't have much time before the cake burned. Tyler may have been bad-tempered, but he usually brought good materials, so she wasn't worried.

Today, however, he broke his record. She regarded the berries piled in the basket with distaste. "You call these _cherries_?"

"No, I call them apples," retorted Tyler. "Maybe you call them cherries."

Chaotica, as usual, took the snap without turning a hair. "No, I call them dried, withered shells of what might ONCE have been cherries." She held up one of the berries, wrinkling her nose at it; it was a cherry, certainly, but its skin had begun to dry and wrinkle, making it resemble a raisin more than anything else. Chaotica was not at all pleased. 

Tyler shrugged. "So they're dried cherries. So what."

"_So_ I'm making turnovers! You can't make turnovers with dried cherries!" She waved the berry exasperatedly, trying to explain her baking woes to one who was not at all interested in the culinary arts. "They'll taste like---like---shoe leather! With little beady things in it!"

"So it'll taste like shoe leather with little beady things in it," returned Tyler. "Get over it."

"I---oh!" She exhaled an irritated breath. "Crecy, come over here and take a look at this!"

The boy called for raised his head from where he was bent over a bowl of dough, folding in an ingredient. "Yes?"

"Look at this!" She held the offending berry high. "How can I make a turnover with berries like _this_?"

He blinked at the berry. "Uh…well, you put it in the dough, and you fold it over and bake it, and---"

"Cre-CY!"

"---and then you hope that no one eats the turnovers and goes for the rolls instead!" he finished cheerfully. Chaotica groaned.

"Although, really, that is kind of bad," he admitted, leaving his mixing to come over and sympathize with a fellow cook. "I mean…really." He picked up one and looked at it closely, almond-shaped eyes narrowing distastefully. "Couldn't you get any better ones?" he addressed Tyler.

"They were all like that," replied Tyler sulkily. "They're the best I could find!"

"Really?" Chaotica raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Come on, these are the worst I've ever seen! Where were you looking, Stick Canyon?"

"No, Spring Valley! Where I always find them!"

Another gatherer came up behind him, nodding. "He's right---all of them are looking miserable. Look, mine are the same." He tilted his basket, revealing a pile of cherries that were just as withered and hard as Tyler's. "We couldn't find a good tree anywhere."

Chaotica looked startled. "That's not right. They're always ripe!"

"Maybe the storm had something to do with it?" offered Crecy. 

"I don't think so." The other gatherer, a boy named Keric, shook his head. "A rainstorm shouldn't affect them like that---never has before. And it's not just the cherry trees, either---I noticed a lot of vegetation looking sick. All droopy and withered, like they're not getting the right nutrients or something."

"That's just plain wrong. They were fine yesterday."

"I know." Keric frowned at his gathering basket. "I don't know what's wrong with them. It's like the whole valley's just lost something from the dirt. It's really weird."

"Mm-hm." Tyler's eyes directed themselves towards a spot over Chaotica's shoulder. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have anything on the stove, would you, now?"

"What?" Chaotica whirled to find her cake going up in smoke. "Oh---fine, they'll do!" She dashed over to stifle the billows that were now rolling from off the oven, to the amusement of the rest of the kitchen workers. Crecy chuckled and went back to his mixing, and Tyler, with a breath of relief, went off to join the other maren to wait for breakfast. 

Keric remained behind, rolling a withered cherry between his fingers. It was some time before he finally put it down, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Spring Valley was relatively quiet. A few Minions were patrolling here and there, on the look-out for Dreamers or the occasional group of Nightopians. More quiet and less menacing animals roamed about as well; deer, boar, hares. Birds chattered in the trees about bird matters.

From the Ideya Palace, the rest of the world looked like one giant, all-encompassing movie seen through a round screen. Sounds were not muffled, but for some reason NiGHTS almost had the feeling they were, anyway, just from the odd sense of watching things through a pane of glass.

_'Or from a fishbowl,' _he added dryly, watching without much interest as a group of Nightopians was chased by a renegade Gao. _'I suppose this is how Gulpo must feel all the time. You have to pity him now.'_

_'Who's you?' _he returned, wincing as a Nightopian went up in a cloud of sparkling dust and a shriek. _'You're talking to yourself, NiGHTS. And now I'm talking to myself like I'm someone else. Wizeman, I'm already losing it!'_

The crowd of Nightopians fluttered by, trying---and failing---to keep ahead of the Gao that had already killed one of them. NiGHTS, in a sudden flair of anger, shot to the edge of the enclosure and made a snarling face at the Gao.

The sudden appearance of a nightmaren, and a ticked one, was enough to send the Gao tumbling backwards over itself in surprise. Without further ado it turned tail and ran.

The Nightopians also scattered, although their technique for retreat was far less efficient; several of them tripped over themselves or others as they tried to run in terror. NiGHTS, feeling rather satisfied, if a bit bemused by the fact that he'd apparently scared the living wits out of the creatures he was trying to help, sat back and watched them.

One of the Nightopians pulled himself up out of the weeds he'd landed in to find the nightmaren sitting calmly, hands locked about his knees and watching the scramble to flee with an expression bordering on sadness. After a moment, his tiny brains managed to work through the conundrum.

"You were scaring away the Gao, weren't you?" he piped up, placing his hands on the ground between his knees to shove his round body up off the ground, staggering upright like a baby learning to walk. NiGHTS, slightly surprised that one of them had figured things out, nodded.

"Yes."

"Well, thanks!" The Nightopian moved closer, carefully avoiding the barrier he knew was there; he'd been one of the Nightopians throwing themselves against it yesterday. "My name's Nip. Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you too. My name's NiGHTS."

"Night?"

"No, NiGHTS. All of the letters are capitalized except for the 'I'."

"Oh." Nip took this in with a slightly confused air, but as expected did not hold that air for long. "That's a neat name. I have a brother named Tuck---you wanna meet him?"

"Sure."

"M'kay. TUCK!" 

A small, egg-shaped head popped out of the foliage above them at Nip's shrill call. "What?

"Come down here! This guy's nice!"

"M'kay." The Nightopian worked his way out of the trees and fluttered down to them, looking up at NiGHTS with less curiosity than his brother had shown. "Hi."

"Hello." NiGHTS waved a bit, silently wondering what Reala would think if he saw his brother now, chit-chatting with Nightopians. The thought of his brother twisted something in his chest, and he winced; but the glass case held strong. Don't go there yet. He focused back on the two dream creatures in front of him.

"---and he was trying to scare the Gao, not us!" finished Nip. "So we owe him one."

"M'kay." Tuck didn't seem duly impressed by this news, but he didn't seem annoyed either. In fact, he seemed rather quiet for a Nightopian altogether. 

"So why are you here?" questioned Nip suddenly, whirling on NiGHTS as he changed the subject of conversation. The question caused NiGHTS to stumble.

"Well…it's kind of a long story."

"That's what they all say. Go on." Tuck settled down next to the invisible barrier, and as he did several more Nightopians fluttered from the trees, enticed by the prospect of a story. NiGHTS nodded once, acknowledging Tuck's statement.

"Okay, so it's not that long. Could be, but I'll try to make it short." He straightened his shoulders, thinking. "Well, it started just a few weeks ago…"

"Miss Luna?"

The sparring instructor turned at the voice, recognizing it instantly. "Aster?"

The girl stood in the door of the library, her hands clasped behind her back, her tone quiet. A patch was bound about her forehead, covering her left eye. "Hi."

A smile broke on Luna's face, and she patted the chair next to hers. "Come, sit down. How are you feeling?"

"All right." She sat down carefully, hands folded in her lap. Luna looked at her knowingly.

"That's all?"

"Welllllll…" She fingered the hem of her shirt. "I still have a headache, and I feel kind of sore. That's all, though."

"Mm-hm. What's the bandage for?"

Aster winced. "Light hurts it."

"Ah." Luna nodded, deciding not to venture any further into such a painful topic. For a moment neither of them spoke.

Finally Aster opened her mouth, her fingers still working the hem nervously, head bowed. "What do you think I'll do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can't…" She took a breath and got it out in one desperate heave. "I can't fight or use a pike anymore."

"Lance." Luna touched her hand gently. "Of course you can still fight, Aster. Just because your vision's a little impaired doesn't mean you're not a great fighter."

"Really?"

She leaned back, nearly smiling. "Come on, girl. You took a golgoth head on. You think I'd let someone that promising just walk off because she's lost her eye? I have more respect for good fighters, thank you."

"Oh, wow…thanks!" Aster lifted her head, her entire posture changing. Luna smiled as the girl she remembered came back to life. "I promise I'll try really hard to make up for not seeing as well!"

"You'll do fine. Think of Miss Calysta." Miss Calysta was a fighter from the older generations, who had reputedly lost an eye in a fight with an Equs; her bandanna-swathed visage was cheerful and battle-scarred, and she held a very good reputation with the younger maren.

Aster's visible eye lit up. "Oh, that's right!" She smiled. "Yeah, I guess I'll do fine."

She peered down curiously at the book open in front of her instructor. "So what's that?

Luna ran a hand through her eternally tangled hair, sighing. "I'm trying to find any possible information on the beasts we used to fight. Now that we've had a second attack, I'd rather be prepared."

"Oh." Aster's expression fell. She hadn't personally known Ernest well, but she'd spoken with him once or twice. Luna saw a tear glisten in the corner of her eye before silently falling to the table-top.

She sighed again. "Since none of the younger students have even fought anything other than Minions or a brainless animal, they'll have no idea how to take on a dreambeast. I'm trying to figure out what they'll need to know."

"Dreambeast?" repeated Aster, wrinkling her nose quizzically. "I thought that those were all dead."

Luna tapped the book thoughtfully. "We all did. Apparently we were wrong."

"Oh." She started as a thought came to her. "So does that mean that we're going to have dragons and golems and stuff again? I thought that was over!"

"I'm not sure. We thought we destroyed all of them…but now that this golgoth's popped up, and then another nightmaren was attacked on his own, well. I guess that means we don't know as much about this world as we thought."

"But where could it come from?" Aster slid her chair closer, now fully enthralled with the mystery currently puzzling her idol. "The Hunters went through the entire Dream World, didn't they?"

"That's a lot of space to cover, Aster. It's believable that a creature or two managed to hide in some crevice somewhere. What surprises me is that it only came out now…and there's more than one of them," she added, half to herself.

"Mm." Aster made a small noise of thoughtfulness; then she looked back up at her teacher. "So why did the Hunters kill them all anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they had just as many rights to the land as we did, didn't they? I mean they were here before Wizeman started creating us, so it's kind of their property."

Luna smiled, pleased by her student's kindness. "That's true, Aster. But it wasn't like that. Trust me, I know."

Her eyes became clouded, as if she were thinking over something that had happened a very long time ago and was struggling to remember it fully. "I was alive back then. I was made some time during the Discovery Age, you know. That was right before the Taming Age."

"Uh-huh." Aster pulled her knees up to her chest and locked her arms about them, hoping to hear more. 

"We were just exploring the farthest corners of the Dream World then…there were still places we hadn't found, and creatures we didn't know about. That was an exciting age; there were still reports about new things and rumors of new places, and there was a lot of fighting around the borders that we'd set up…A lot of the beasts living in the lands around us didn't want us there. But then, they didn't want anyone else there, either, and there was always infighting."

She sighed. "The dreambeasts weren't like the creatures we have now, Aster. There are the mindless animals, like the deer that live in the forests, and then there are the dream creatures, like the Minions or the Nightopians. The dreambeasts didn't fit into either category."

"Why not?"

"They were like the animals in that they had little or no ability to talk or any strong sense of intelligence, only instinct; but they were different from animals, because they had dream-energy bodies, and some of them were smart. They were all mean, though."

"Was that a reason to kill them all?"

"Not at first. We stayed in our own lands, and they stayed in theirs for the most part, paying more attention to killing each other than us…then they started to attack us whenever possible, and things just went downhill from there. They seemed to have an innate desire to kill nightmaren; I guess because they had already brutalized each other so much that we seemed like a pretty interesting new prospect."

"They were really that mean?"

Luna looked at her. "You met that golgoth, Aster. That was a fairly reasonable dreambeast."

Aster winced. "Oh."

"Yes. Some were worse. The Shadowkin would slip into the castle and then kill maren in dark corners, or poison the food if they could…and the Equs were brutal. They were intelligent, and actually spoke quite fluently, but they were monsters all the same. Any creature that wasn't an Equs and who stepped into their vision was quickly and unceremoniously either beheaded or gutted." Aster's mouth tightened in disgust. "The Intus weren't that bad, considering…but there were few of them. The more warlike races killed them all off. And the Inveiglen were simply vengeful. You got one of them mad at you, and they would torment you for a century if they had the chance…"

"Miss Luna?"

The sparring instructor came out of her reverie, focusing on her student once more. "Yes?"

"That wasn't me."

"Miss Luna?"

She turned to the doorway, where another of her students stood. "Oh. Yes?"

"Miss Stella wants to see you, ma'am."

"Again?" She looked startled as she pushed back her chair; then, remembering Aster, she turned and smiled. "Aster, why don't you study this book for a little bit? I think you'll find it interesting, and it would be good for you to learn a bit about some of those creatures."

"All right." She picked up to book and headed for the nearest plush chair, ready to curl up and learn about the past. Luna felt a small surge of pride in her student's eagerness to gain knowledge before she turned and headed for the door. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The boy, whom she noted as being the one who'd startled her in the blackberry patch a day or two back, bowed respectfully before heading down the hall. She turned and went the other way.

Stella was waiting patiently in the doorway of the Infirmary, her eyes showing that she was perturbed. Luna nodded to her in greeting. "You needed to speak to me?"

Stella nodded in her turn. "Ay. I was inspectin' th' wound---" here she tossed her head at the curtain in the corner, indicating the body that lay behind. "---an' I found summat interestin'."

"What?" 

"There was another bite right in th' side, next t' th' larger one." She indicated the spot on her own body with her hand. "'Twas a small gnash, like summat'd bit him b'fore the larger one did. S'been so long since I've seen any of the shadowbeasts, I'm no sure of miself anymore…but it looked like a Shadowkin's bite."

The kitchens were expectedly busy, but Morgen was a normal visitor and didn't cause any amount of trouble. Chaotica grinned when she saw him hovering near a tray of pastries that had just been taken out of the oven; then, when she saw what they were, she frowned. "Oh, those."

"What's this?"

"Cherry turnovers. They aren't very good though, I warn you."

Morgen smiled. "Come, now, you haven't made a meal that wasn't fabulous since you were knee-high."

"I was never knee-high, Morgen." Chaotica slumped on one elbow, grinning at him from over the counter she was working at. "And trust me, they aren't good." She had to smirk as the silver-haired maren took a bite. "See?"

Morgen chewed thoughtfully, looking upwards toward the ceiling as if in deep thought. "Hmmm…"

"I told you."

"Yes, you told me they didn't taste good." He looked at the turnover in his hand with one eye appraisingly. "You lied."

"They taste good?"

"Sure."

"You're lying."

"I am not lying." 

She looked at him, surprised at the truth in his eyes. "You're not lying."

"No. I'm not." He looked back down at the turnover. "But the texture leaves something to be desired."

Chaotica groaned, slapping her forehead. "I KNEW it!"

"Knew what?" Heckler leaned over the counter that opened in between the kitchens and Dining Hall, several of the younger maren behind him. 

"The turnovers." She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "He says they taste bad."

"I did not!" protested Morgen. "I simply said that the texture left something to be desired!"

Heckler shrugged. "Always something else to eat."

"He's got a point," confided Morgen to a glowering Chaotica.

She flicked her hand at them in a dismissive gesture, turning away to begin folding pastry dough. "I'm ignoring you."

"Thanks." Heckler shoved his hands onto the counter and pulled himself up, rolling over to sit on the edge. Chaotica would normally yell at him to get off.

Morgen grinned, fingers flickering in a quick waving motion; a glint of silver shone from their tips. With a snap, the coin he had been rolling on his fingers disappeared. With another wave it reappeared. He often played with a coin when he was standing still.

Heckler gestured for the coin. "Can I see?"

"Sure." Morgen handed it over and watched as the younger maren began performing small tricks, hands moving gracefully to make the coin disappear into thin air, pulling it out of peoples' ears and pretending to swallow it and then find it in his pocket. Terrance, who had moved up beside him, spoke softly.

"He's good."

"Quite." Morgen watched closely as Heckler made the coin spin on his finger and then vanish, only to be found in a nearby mug. "He's got magic in his fingers."

"If only he would use some of that magic in class," muttered Tessa as she passed by, shooting her new student a glare as she did. Heckler was too busy with something else to notice.

Morgen smiled suddenly as Heckler, with a flourish, made a flower appear from his sleeve; Jitters, close behind, did not notice that a jonquil was missing from the bouquet she was holding. Heckler looked about, seeming to confer with himself. "Hm…let's see…who's in need of a flower? Oh, anyone'll do. Catch, Chaotica."

Chaotica, who had joined in with the others to watch, against her protest, caught the flower he'd tossed at her. Heckler gestured to his wrist, making the coin appear once more, and so no one saw him wink at Chaotica before turning his attention back to the trick. Morgen, however, caught it.

"Yes, he's certainly very good," he said smilingly, turning back to the kitchens with a pleased look on his face. "Have you tried the turnovers?"

"No---are they that good?"

"Let's just say you should try for yourself."

"Lemme see." Terrance caught the turnover Morgen tossed him. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and then swallowed. He said nothing.

Chaotica waited. "Well?"

"Well, let's put it this way." He looked at the pastry in his hand studiously before looking up at her, his face wide in innocence. "It tastes like old shoe leather. With little beady things in it."

Dusty yellow light streaked across the table.

The library was mostly lit by tall, fat beeswax candles nestled in groves built into the stone and sitting on various side tables and empty spaces on shelves. Large windows opened up on one wall, but the shelves blocked most daylight from reaching anywhere further than a few yards into the room, and so the candles were used.

There was, however, a long wooden table set in an open space by the windows for those who were annoyed by the almost imperceptible flicker of the beeswax. The space was often used for group discussions; this evening, however, it was almost abandoned.

Not completely. One maren sat near the middle, books spread out on either side of him, several mugs and dishes among the dusty tomes stating the fact that he'd been here for some time. A half-eaten roll was still sitting forlornly on its plate, and a mug of blackberry tea sat at his elbow. He wasn't drinking it, however. His attention was focused wholly on the book open in front of him.

"There you are."

Jackle jumped about two feet straight up off his chair, landing with a gasp; he bent over the table's edge, running one hand through his invisible hair, shoulders shaking. "For the love of Wizeman, Clawz, if you EVER do that again…" he gritted through his teeth.

The cat-maren's expression was slightly apologetic, mostly offended. "Well excuse _me_ if you haven't the sense to hear someone walking right up to your shoulder."

Jackle sighed and leaned back, continuing to work his gloved fingers through his hair. His hat was hung carelessly on the chair next to him. "I was---focused on reading. I never noticed you."

"Yeah, that was apparent enough," Clawz retorted, peering over the demi-maren's shoulder. "What are you reading?"

"Mm? Stuff. History."

"When?"

"Taming Age," replied Jackle, secretly a bit surprised by the fact that Clawz was, for once, not trying to find some sort of argument to start. "Near the first hundred years."

"Mm-hm." Clawz squinted at the spidery handwriting. "How d'you read that?"

"It's a bit tough, but you get used to a particular hand pretty fast."

"Well yeah, but…" He looked closer. "That doesn't even look like it's in Dreamen."

"It's not."

"It isn't?" 

"No. It's a human language of some sort---they call it Latin. I don't think it's used much anymore."

"Oh." The cat-maren settled down onto his haunches, still studying the book. "When did you learn it?"

"Taught myself."

"_Taught_ yourself? How?"

"I found some book on it…Latin Priming or something, I think the title was…no idea where we got it. It was on the shelves here." He gestured with a crimson-tipped hand. "It didn't teach me near everything, but I can get the gist of things. It's a really weird language."

"Yeah, looks like it." He cocked his head to one side. "So it's about the Taming Age, and it's in a human language? That doesn't make any sense."

"I know." Jackle frowned at the pages. "The signature's a name I never heard of, but it speaks like the author was a 'maren. But who knows Latin?"

"Got me."

"Yeah, it's got me too. Never know what you'll find on these shelves. Still, it is helpful, lot of information and stuff to help me remember…I figured it would be good to review, now that we had a golgoth. No telling what else may come around."

"Didn't you hear?" Clawz blinked at him. "There was another attack yesterday."

The demi-maren's eyes widened. "What?"

"You didn't know? A boy went missing, and they found him dead in the northern part of the Forest. Rumor says it looked like a golgoth kill."

"Dead…and by another golgoth, too. What the Ideya is going on here?"

"I have no clue."

Jackle looked back down at his book, and the cat-maren noticed his eyes suddenly become glazed, as if he were not focusing on the book in front of him but rather something beneath the table.

_Certainly a conundrum, isn't it?_

'There you are,' Jackle replied through thought. _'Been awhile.'_

Well, you didn't call for us. We knew you'd call if you needed our presence.

'Mm-hm.' He fiddled with the book corner absently. _'Do you know anything about this?'_

Unfortunately, no. It's disturbing, however.

Jackle's eyes focused vaguely on a blur of color in front of his eyes, following it without really thinking about the motion. _'Yeah. I mean, one I can handle, but two? That's bad.'_

Don't worry. Wizeman has everything under control.

'True…but it's just weird. I mean, where are they coming from?'

It will be found out soon enough.

'I hope so…'

Clawz raised an eyebrow as Jackle, instead of blinking, followed his paw with a distant air, as if he weren't even aware of the fact that his companion was waving a hand in front of his face. He stopped, realizing it was pointless, and tried something else. "Jackle? You in there?"

The demi-maren blinked as Clawz spoke to him. _'Oh yeah, forgot about him.'_

May as well answer.

"Yeah," he said out loud, still gazing aimlessly at the table-top. Clawz nodded uncertainly.

"Uh…huh. Just checking. Um…I have to go check the agility training---see you later."

"Bye." Jackle gave an absent-minded wave of his hand, still staring.

He closed his eyes slowly. _'I just don't like it. Two golgoths in a few days isn't right. There's something wrong here.'_

Wizeman will take care of it, soothed the voices. _Just relax and learn what you can. He's got everything under control._

If you say so. Jackle returned to his quiet study of the Latin book. Dusty yellow light streaked across the table.

"What's so interesting, Varia?"

The object of Heckler's question started. "Nothing," she replied, too hurriedly for the boy's taste.

"Oh, come on." He nudged her. "What're you looking at?"

"I said nothing!"

He blinked at her sudden resentment, and then tried to peer over her shoulder out the window. She shoved him away and turned to stalk down the hall.

Heckler gazed after her before looking out the window; for a moment, he simply stared.

"Oh, dear Ideya," he whispered. "Not _him_."

"Did you find him?"

Clawz nodded as he stalked to his chair, shooting Puffy a warning glance as he did. She returned it with one of confusion; he jerked his head towards the giant creature currently resting in front of the fire. Understanding dawned on her face, and she nodded.

The cat-maren addressed their topic of silent conversation as he curled up on the red velvet. "Gillwing, have you collected your Ideya yet today?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Ah." Clawz smiled kindly at him. "I'm one short…I have to go back out and get it before dark. But my paw hurts something dreadful from that awful thorn I stepped on…"

"You hurt your paw?" Gillwing's dull face filled with worry. "You should go to the Infirmary!"

"It's just a thorn…but it hurts to walk on it…" He winced to show his pain.

Gillwing fluttered his wings in anxiety. "You shouldn't walk!"

"Yeah, but I have to get that last Ideya…"

"What'll you do?"

Puffy, at this point, perceived that Clawz would need a bit more help. "Gillwing, I have a wonderful idea! Why don't you get one for him? You're so fast, I'm sure you could do it easily!"

Understanding dawned on the reptilian creature's face. "I can get you your Ideya!"

"Would you be so kind?" Clawz looked hopeful.

"Sure!" Gillwing got up and began ambling for the door. "You just wait right there, Clawz, and don't walk!"

"I won't," called Clawz as the other maren exited. 

As soon as the door had closed, Gulpo rose to the top of his tank to make an observation. "I think I'm going to be scarred for life."

"Shut up," returned Puffy. "We got him to go, at least." She turned to face Clawz. "Well? How was he?"

"Weird." Clawz, whose paw seemed to be giving him no trouble now, had switched abruptly from cheerful to solemn. "He was at the window table, surrounded by dozens of books; he had some plates and mugs with him, too. He was reading a book on the Taming Age when I came up, but it wasn't in Dreamen---it was in some human language called Latin."

"Latin?" Puffy's ears straightened a bit in interest. "I've heard of it before. But he was reading it?"

"Yeah, said he taught himself the language with a book he'd found somewhere. He talked about it for a little bit; he was like himself, very quiet and collected. Anyway, he didn't know about the second attack. But that's not the weirdest part," he hurried to add, when he saw Puffy about to interrupt. "When I told him about it, he got very quiet, and started gazing at the table like he was zoning out. After almost a minute he hadn't even blinked, so I waved my paw in front of his face; he didn't do anything, just followed my paw with a sort of half-asleep look about him. Finally I spoke to him, and he said 'yeah'. But he didn't stop looking like he was in a daze. I said goodbye, and he did too, and when I left he was still staring at that same table."

The two listening looked away reflectively, but processing what Clawz had just said. He sighed and settled against the chair back. "I don't know, but it's very disturbing. It was like I got the feeling he was listening to someone else at the same time or something."

"Do you think…Reala was right?" murmured Puffy. Clawz shrugged slowly. 

"I've no idea, Puffy. I've never met an insane maren before. He acted perfectly normal until I mentioned the attack…"

"Maybe he's just stressed."

At Puffy's remark, Gulpo gave a derisive snort and ducked back underwater. Puffy and Clawz glanced at each other, used to the fish having his own ideas and opinions. Still, acting strange under pressure just didn't seem to fit, somehow.

Wizeman held a hand up to his face, willing the eye in the center to open. Its surface became clear, and slowly a picture of Nightmare Castle's courtyard began to form within.

The picture became clearer, and with some thought he focused it upon a few young nightmaren lounging about on one of the stone benches. They were sitting in a sloppy sort of circle, talking. With some concentration he was able to hear what they were saying.

"It's just so weird, y'know?"

"Yeah…I mean, he just up and did it! He was just fine until right then, they say---why'd he just up and do it then?"

"Maybe he knew something we don't?"

"Like that's not normal."

"Shut up, Heckler. Like what, Aniline?"

"I dunno…something. Something important. Or maybe he just didn't want anyone else getting hurt, what with that golgoth thing attacking."

"Now there's an idea."

"So why didn't Wizeman stop him? If he's so all-fired great, why didn't he jump up and say, 'Hey, you, I created you and I control you, so give me back those Ideya!' Why'd he just let NiGHTS go like that if he wanted those things so badly? Sounds like Wizeman's gotten kind of senile, if you ask me."

The hand clenched into a fist, successfully erasing the image. The boy's harsh voice lingered on in Wizeman's thoughts, however.

__

' "Gotten senile"…they dare? Not only do they dare think it, but they DARE say such out loud? Has the leaders' influence become that weak? Has discipline become so loose that they dare say such in casual conversation?'

The hand drifted down to join the others, eyes half-closed now in thought. Anger was showing raw in their depths. _'First NiGHTS, and now the young ones. They've all become tainted. Flawed creations, all of them.'_

He softened that thought after a moment. _'The High Seekers are still loyal…so I believe. Perhaps I should speak to them. But as for the crowds…'_

A frown etched itself into his stony mouth. _'If I could kill them all…How can I conquer the Waking World with a rebellious army of tainted creations? If I don't handle this carefully, the results could be catastrophic…'_

And so he began to ponder the future.

Reala's stride was firm and even, never pausing for a moment, never faltering. He entered his room and shut the door with a firm shove.

And was promptly covered in darkness.

"Shards," he cursed, realizing that the sweeping draft created by his closing the door so quickly had blown out the lone candle that had lit the room. With hands outstretched, he began feeling his way over to the table where tinder and flint were laid.

He bumped against several objects, but managed to make his way there and re-light the candle; moving about the room, he touched the small flame to the lamps and lanterns that lit his chambers, their fuel refreshed every day by some of the younger maren whose job it was to simply supply fuel for all the lights in the castle. It was actually a fairly large job. 

He placed the candle on the edge of his bed-stand and sat on the bed, legs hanging over the side, eyes staring at the floor in thoughtfulness. The students had not been at all cooperative today; and he knew why.

They no longer trusted their leaders. NiGHTS sudden imprisonment and then Ernest's death had made them all unsure of their leaders' ability to lead; some of them had even gone so far as to ask him why everything had happened the way it did. He brushed them off with a harsh snap, and they quieted, but he could feel questioning glances and cold stares on his back all day long. He was losing his grip.

Snarling and shoving his way back into respect didn't work, either. They wanted a leader who could protect, not be powerful, and they felt he wasn't good enough. His lip curled into a snarl. _'Not good enough…who are they to judge?'_

He rubbed the toe of his boot against the shining floor, still sneering at the ground. _'What do they know of being a leader? They never went through anything near the pain I experienced to reach this height of perfection; they have no idea what they're talking about! The fools, they're merely soldiers in a vast army!'_

He gripped the silken coverlet tight between his fingers, claws threatening to tear through the expensive material. He did not care. "Curse you, NiGHTS, even trapped in a room four feet high you're still causing trouble!"

NiGHTS sat quietly, legs crossed, staring at the Nightopians that had gathered about the Ideya Palace. All of them were sound asleep.

"I can just see it now," he muttered quietly. "NiGHTS and his Nightopian Patrol."

"At least they work for cheap," replied a low voice. NiGHTS glanced aside to find Tuck sitting next to the barrier, quite awake. "Just make 'em happy and you don't even have to give them wages."

"S'not true," protested Nip sleepily, giving his brother a weak shove. "We'd want pay. But still…" He yawned babyishly, a round hand covering his mouth. "We don't mind staying…you're nice, NiGHTS. You tell good stories."

"He means that you don't forget what you're trying to talk about like most Nightopian storytellers," confided Tuck, but Nip had already closed his eyes. NiGHTS smiled.

"Glad to hear it. And I'm glad you're here."

"Well, no reason not to be, eh?" Tuck settled down on himself, hands folded over his small round stomach. "S'not like we have anything more important to do."

"True." NiGHTS chuckled quietly. "Apart from sing, of course. And fling yourselves at walls."

"Nah, that last one's a new one," replied the Nightopian, his eyes slowly fluttering shut. "Actually, it's kinda fun, I have to admit."

"Don't forget who was brave enough to try it out first," reminded Nip, eyes still closed. Tuck shot him a sleepy glare.

"Oh, shut up."

NiGHTS smiled again and stretched out, hands flung out at his sides, staring up at the plain blue ceiling of his prison. At least it was a peaceful night.

His dreams were pleasant. The children were happy, and they were very brave.


	5. Cursed By The Gods

AN: About friends, to a friend. This chapter has both AC and the Nightopian pair in it, Nightdragon, and so it's dedicated to you.

AC: How come you never dedicate a chapter to any of us? We're your MUSES.

*pokes him* Because you never inspire me, stupid.

AC: We do too!

Bass and Insomnia: *are currently beating each other over the heads with an oak table-leg and the broad side of a big silver axe, respectively*

*watching them* Yes, but you inspire all the wrong sorts of things in me. That's the problem.

__

What can I say about Nightdragon? We're different, and yet the same; we speak to our muses, we're sensitive to dislike, we tend to be empathic; when it comes to our theories and our ideas about NiGHTS, which was what brought us together, we couldn't be more different. Bring up any debatable issue connected to this fan base, and it's likely she and I will be on opposite sides.

I couldn't care less.

Molly was one of the first people I met here, and she helped shape my online personality---she let me know that there were nice people out there. Friendly, caring, open, and funny, she's always been there, ready to stand up for me or give me a shoulder to cry on. Every time I needed to whimper to someone, moan about my life, complain about my feelings or growl about something that had happened, she was willing to listen, and she still is.

In honor of our friendship, Molly.

Disclaimer: "How come you never dedicate a chapter to any of us? We'"---AC

Whom the gods destroy, they first make mad.

Fragment, by Euripides

__

Chapter Five:

Cursed By The Gods

"G'mornin', AC," mumbled Jackle sleepily, blinking at his crow friend through the fringe of invisible bangs that he felt over his eyes but could not see. "How's th' night?"

AC cawed and scratched behind his head with a clawed foot, standing up on his toes to yawn in a bird-like manner and then stretch out his wings, one at a time. Jackle followed the same routine, yawning and stretching as he began the daily business of working his way out of the bedclothes that had become entangled about his body. "Why is it I always get tangled in the covers?" he muttered.

AC gave a laughing caw, finding the demi-maren's struggling attempts to break free amusing. Jackle halted and glared at him. "You could at least help out!"

AC gave him a demure look and turned away, shouldering up next to the bed post to rub his head against it, bright eyes closed. Jackle muttered something about incorrigible crows as he shoved at the sheet that was wrapped tightly about his legs.

Finally, with a large amount of effort, he managed to break free and tumble out of bed, getting up off the floor where he'd landed with a bad-tempered glare at the bed. AC chortled to himself in a crow-like way.

"That was mean," Jackle accused to coverlet, shoving it back onto the bed without actually trying to give it any form of bed-making decency. "Next time attack someone who's armed and awake!"

He turned away with a pleased air, convinced he'd given the covers a good scolding, and began hunting for his cape, looking under the bed and in the bureau, peering out on the balcony. "Cape," he muttered, reminding himself of what he was seeking for. "Cape, cape, cape. Cape cape cape. Cape."

"Cape!" he called to the room, as if expecting it to jump up in answer to its master's call. "Cape, ca---cape!" he pronounced happily, as he caught sight of the piece of flaming-yellow fabric that lay draped over a giant block, where he'd thrown it the night before. 

"There you are," he told it, scurrying over and drawing it around himself as if he were greeting an old friend. "Got lost, did you? I told you not to wander off at night! Sitting on a block as lonesome as you please, hm? That's no way for a cape to act."

He turned away and began searching for his hat, absently talking to the cape as he did. "What's with the giant blocks, hm? They're nice and all, but you'd think this room would have a bit more space to move about in! Who put the blocks here in the first place? Well?"

The cape, apparently, did not know, as it did not answer. Jackle didn't seem at all fazed by this, but continued chatting to it as he found his hat and put it on; turning to AC, he gave the crow a smile. "I'm off to breakfast. See you in a bit."

AC bobbed his head sleepily as watched the demi-maren bound out, happy as could be; as soon as his friend was out of the door, he settled down for a long nap. Now that he was staying awake nights, watching over Jackle to make sure the demi-maren didn't come to harm in the dark, he needed all the extra sleep he could get.

Bouncing down the corridor, Jackle passed by a mirror. He stopped and backed up, grinning at his reflection. "Hello, there. What are you doing hanging in the middle of the hall, eh? Who would---"

He halted. Something about the scene---a dark and shadowed place, a mirror hanging in front of him, seeing his reflection---brought back a memory with burning speed. He stared, eyes wide.

He began to whimper softly, still staring; pressing one fist to his mouth, he gazed at the picture of himself reflected there, all eyes and empty air. He whimpered around his fist.

_'Who am I?'_

The day passed quietly. Nightmaren followed their normal routine; fighters trained, cleaners scrubbed floors and replaced firewood and tinder, bakers and chefs worked industriously all day long to provide food for the teeming population of maren that lived within Nightmare Castle. Gatherers and suppliers ventured out into the Dream World to bring in food for the kitchens and wood for the fires of Blacksmithy, but they did not dare stray far. Ideya count was strangely low, but the general knowledge was that Ideya count wasn't really what mattered now, and no one was bothering counting anyway; intake slacked off. Amaranth worked hard at his bellows, hammering the metal sent to him by the maren who worked in the mines under the mountains of Spring Valley. Morgen was kept busy with handing out weapons to those who had been sent to a new position in the fighting ranks.

The High Seekers were strangely absent from sight of the masses. Gulpo was hiding somewhere deep in the underground caverns he frequented; Gillwing was curled up in his lagoon; Puffy was sitting in the Great Hall, not reading for once but simply staring at the fire and pondering; Clawz and Jackle were nowhere to be found. 

Reala was struggling to regain the position he'd held before NiGHTS had stolen the Ideya; he hadn't had such a title, perhaps, but his orders had been obeyed without question. Now maren murmured and talked among themselves, questioning orders and giving him suspicious glances. He barked and snarled and even hit one of the students in a moment of rage; Heckler stumbled back, but the look he shot his superior was one of contempt and resentment, not one of fearful respect. Reala trembled with anger both at himself and his followers. They refused to respect him, and he couldn't make them give him that respect. 

_'Blast it, NiGHTS!' _He slammed his golden claws into a training post and stood still, back heaving. _'If you hadn't done that, none of this would have happened! Things wouldn't have collapsed! So…why did you do it?'_

He ripped his claws out of the wood, panting. No, questioning was not good. Questioning made things more confusing; it was questioning that really bought this whole thing about. He shouldn't question. _'It's all your fault, NiGHTS. I don't know why you did it, and I don't care. It's all because of you!'_

Yes, that was better. It was easier if he just shoved all the blame on his strange brother. He picked a splinter of wood from under his claw thoughtfully, forcing himself to calm down and be a reasonable general like he was expected to be. _'Come, think now. There has to be a way to make them snap back to attention. There has to.'_

He turned away from the splintered training manikin, ignoring the students who were watching him fearfully from a corner. They put their heads together to whisper as the Seeker General strode out.

"So is training done?"

"I dunno, Strix. He's never walked out in the middle of the session like that."

"You shouldn't have asked him about NiGHTS, Yarrow."

"How was I to know he'd react like that?"

"You guys can complain, but I personally am happy to have the rest of the session off."

"You bet I am too. But I wonder what's wrong with Reala?"

Nip hugged the tree branch he'd landed on contentedly. "Those were good berries."

"They were a bit dry," Tuck commented as he looked towards the Ideya Palace. "I like them fresher."

"I thought they were good."

"They were still nice." He cocked his head to one side, then turned to his brother. "Where's NiGHTS?"

"What?" Nip rolled over and looked towards their friend's prison.

He was gone.

In the middle of Splash Garden, inside an Ideya Palace, sat a very confused, very disorientated nightmaren.

NiGHTS stared about him dizzily, still trying to get over the strange, sickening sensation and sudden change of location that had hit him. _'What the Ideya…'_

He hadn't even been sitting upright---he'd simply been lying there, staring at the ceiling, and begun wishing he was in Splash Garden so he could see more open spaces. Then the sensation had come over him, and the world seemed to melt into a whirlwind of color.

Now he was here. He looked about himself, shaking his head slowly as he tried to grasp a hold of what had happened. Some sort of instant teleportation, it felt like.

__

'Which makes no sense.' He reached out towards the tempting empty space between the pillars, knowing quite well that he'd be repelled but figuring he might as well try anyway just in case. He was. _'Since when have I been able to teleport? And why right here?'_

_'Well, let's try it again.' _He thought hard of his room in Nightmare, concentrating every single ounce of energy he had into going there. _'Cummon, cummon cummon cummon…'_

When he opened his eyes, he was still in Splash Garden.

_'Oh well.' _He kicked absently at the floor of the Palace. _'I wonder why that happened. Doesn't really matter, although the Nightopians back in Spring Valley might worry about me…'_

He gasped as the sensation of being grabbed and pulled down an elevator far too fast once again engulfed him, leaving him, dizzy and surprised, in the middle of the Spring Valley Ideya Palace.

Nip and Tuck nearly fell off their branch as NiGHTS re-appeared, none the worse for wear and looking very confused. They fluttered to his side. Nip yelled, "What was that?"

"Don't ask me," mumbled NiGHTS, staring down at himself.

"You just appeared out of nowhere," Tuck informed him.

"Not nowhere," corrected NiGHTS absently. "Splash Garden."

"Splash Garden? How'ja get all the way over there?"

"Don't ask me. I was just sitting here wishing I could go there, and next thing I know, bam---there I am."

"And why's your chest glowin' like that?"

"Like what?" NiGHTS glanced down to find that the Ideya shard sealed to his chest was indeed glowing, lit from within by a deep ruby light. He rubbed at it, confused. 

"Like that."

"Yes, yes, I see it now." He gave it a chastising look. "I dunno why, but I do know that every time that thing glows, something bad usually happens."

"Maybe it wanted you to go to Splash Garden!" suggested Nip brightly. His brother gave him The Look. 

"Maybe you're right, Nip," NiGHTS replied, brushing him off. "I wonder why…"

"No, really!" Nip insisted. "Maybe that's why these things are here! So nightmaren with Ideya can travel around!"

Tuck and NiGHTS both stared at him. He shrugged and shielded himself. "Well hey, y'don't hafta rub it in…"

"No, no, you might be right!" NiGHTS was excited now. "It makes sense! Maybe that's what these things are here for---transportation!"

"Y'mean you don't know what they're here for?" murmured Tuck dryly. 

"No---do you?"  
"No, but we all just figured it was something you nightmaren did and forgot to tell us about."

"No, it's all a mystery. They've been here as long as I can remember, no one knows what they're here for…" He grinned. "But maybe now we've figured it out! It makes sense!"

"It won't make sense until you make sure it works," pointed out Tuck. "Try and go somewhere."

"M'kay." NiGHTS closed his eyes, concentrating on seeing a place in his mind. "I'll go to…mmm…Stick Canyon."

Nip chirped excitedly. "Your gem! It's glowing!"

"I know," murmured NiGHTS, right before his form blurred and he disappeared. Nip and Tuck exchanged a high five.

"He'll be back any minute now," said Tuck.

They waited.

"Any minute now," he repeated.

The Ideya Palace remained empty.

The Nightopians exchanged glances. "Where is he?" murmured Nip. Tuck shrugged.

"Hyperspace?"

"Where?"

"I dunno. Some dreamer was mumbling about it."

"Oh. Y'think he's there?"

"How should I know?"

"You said he might be."

"That doesn't mean he is."

"But then where is he?"

"I dunno."

"I thought you thought he was in hyperspace."

"He's not in hyperspace," snapped Tuck.

"So where is he?"

"Right here," NiGHTS felt like contributing as he re-appeared.

"NiGHTS!" cried the Nightopian siblings at the same time. Nip pressed himself against one of the pillars, staring at him with wide eyes. 

"Where'd you go?"

"Several places." NiGHTS ticked them off on his fingers. "Stick Canyon, Mystic Forest, Splash Garden, Soft Museum, and Frozen Bell. All the Ideya Palaces."  
"We were worried about you," Nip informed him.

"Sorry. I just wanted to see if I was right."

"About what?"

"About them being connected." He beamed proudly. "I think you're right about it being transportation, Nip. You can get to any Ideya Palace from any other one, but nowhere else. Kinda like a train station or something."

"Cooooool."

"Yeah. But I wonder who made them?"

"The people in hyperspace?" guessed Nip.

NiGHTS gave him an odd look. "What?"

"Ignore him, NiGHTS."

"But Tuck, you were the one who brought up hyperspace!"

"And I'm sorry I did."

NiGHTS looked between them confusedly. "Mind explaining?"

"Just forget it, NiGHTS. So, now that you know you can travel around, what are you gonna do?"  
"Nothing, probably. I still can't get out. But it'll be nice for a change of scenery every now and then, I suppose."

Nip looked downcast. "Then you'll leave us?"  
"Certainly not." NiGHTS smiled at him, feeling pleased that the Nightopian wanted him to stay. "A piece of scenery isn't worth anything if a friend isn't part of it."

Nip beamed contentedly. "So you won't go away?"

"Not unless the purple aliens from hyperspace come and kidnap me."

"They can do that?"

"I don't know, I'm not the expert on hyperspace. Why don't you ask Tuck?"

"NiiiiGHTS!"

"Tuck, are there really purple aliens in hyperspace?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"What are you doing up here?"

Jackle did not look up, staring out across the open lands with emerald-green eyes. "Thinking."

"Mm-hm. What about?" Clawz sat down quietly next to him, joining the demi-maren in scanning the lands stretched out beyond the castle walls.

"I dunno. Life."

"That's pretty deep for you," commented Clawz. Jackle jerked his head up.

"Why?"

"Uh…" Clawz held up a paw, pulling back slightly. "I didn't mean to offend."

"I know you didn't, but why?" Jackle's tone was not angry, but questioning. "Why can't I be deep and philosophical?"

"You can be if you like."

"Yes, but you didn't expect me to be," he pointed out. He sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead, eyes closing softly. "Tell me something, Clawz."

"Okay---the sky's blue."

"You know what I mean," mumbled Jackle.

"Yeah, I'm sorry." The catmaren bit out the apology but managed not to grimace when doing so. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Tell me…tell me, why am I so different?"

This question made his companion pause for a moment, rubbing his tongue along his teeth. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Jackle leaned back against the railing wearily, shoving off his hat with one hand and dropping it at his feet. Clawz watched silently as he began running crimson-tipped fingers through his invisible hair. "I look different. I act different. I sound different. I think different. I react different." He shot Clawz an almost accusing look. "You think I don't see it, but I do. I see it all perfectly. I see everything."

"I'm sure you do," began Clawz, eyeing the demi-maren a bit hesitantly. Jackle slumped against the railing, tossing his head back.

"Oh sure, look at me funny. But it's true---I see everything you do! Shards, I see more than you see! I've seen and heard more than you'll ever see or hear in your _entire life!_"

Clawz's only reply was to edge away just a miniscule amount. Jackle groaned and rolled over, slumping down onto the railing to contemplate the shadowed world from lying on his arms. "See, that's what I mean. You don't get it, you back away. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," murmured Clawz, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Jackle rolled his head to one side and eyed him.

"Yeah, right. Tell me, Clawz, what do they say about me?"

"Who?"

"The others. Puff and Gulpo and Gill and Reala. What do they say about me?"

Clawz closed his eyes briefly. _'He deserves to know what maren say about him, doesn't he?' _"Well, Reala says you're insane."

"Hm." Jackle rolled back to look out once more, not showing any large amount of emotion over this revelation. "Not surprised…I wonder. Is he right?" He gave Clawz a look again. "Do you think he is?"

"I don't know," admitted Clawz. Jackle laughed quietly, more of a small breath than a laugh.

"At least you're being truthful."

"It's the least you deserve." Clawz shifted on his haunches, thoughtful. "I…really don't know, Jackle. You're smart enough, and you know what's going on, but you kind of…fade out sometimes. Like you're not really paying attention to what's going on. Or like you're just slipping into another world for a little bit."

"Maybe so." The demi-maren's eyes were large and dark in the dusky light, filled with a strange sort of intelligence that came from self-inspection. "Maybe he's right."

Clawz swallowed, determined now to see this conversation to its end. "What do you think?"

"Me?" The question seemed to thrown Jackle off for a bit; his eyes glanced to the side, thinking. "I…I dunno, really. I mean…yeah, I kinda drift off into thinking sometimes, but…well…"

"You might just be a deep thinker," provided Clawz. "That doesn't mean you're insane."

"No, it's not---it's just not like that. It's not that simple." Jackle took a shuddering breath, wrapping his hands over his head. "I hear…I hear voices, Clawz. Voices out of nowhere."

Clawz did not reply, licking dry lips with a long tongue. Jackle continued on in a shaky voice. "At first it was just in dreams---I shouldn't have dreams, I know, but I have them all the time…and I used to hear voices in them. Then, a few weeks ago or something, I heard them in the middle of the day…"

He choked on a breath. "And now they talk to me a lot. They---talk to me. Clawz, I think I'm going insane."

Clawz shifted from one side to the other, thinking quickly through his confusion. "Maybe…"

For a moment, they were both silent, sharing the feelings of discomfort and vulnerability. Finally Clawz spoke again. "But you're still the same---you still think clearly, right? Most of the time. And you're still smart. Maybe it's just something that will pass." 

Jackle sighed and rubbed a lock of indiscernible hair between his fingers slowly. "I don't know, Clawz. I just don't know. I feel the same, but then sometimes I get excited, or happy, or sad over nothing…like I'm drunk or something. By tomorrow I won't even think about what I said today; it'll be kind of foggy, just like everything anyone said yesterday, or the day before that. But does that make me insane?" His voice dropped to a mumble. "Is there really a line like that between sanity and being crazy? How do you know if you've crossed it? What do you do if you think you have?"

He clutched the stone battlement, bending over his stomach as if it hurt to stand straight; his shoulders were shaking. His voice, when he spoke, was strained. "Oh Wizeman, Clawz, I don't even know who I am anymore!"

The catmaren moved closer, unsure of what he was doing and so following his gut instinct. He placed a paw on Jackle's shoulder carefully, the warmth from his broad paw soothing the tenses muscles knotted underneath. "I know who you are, Jackle."

"W-who?" Jackle was shivering, a tear beginning to streak down his face. It seemed to hang eerily in mid-air, suspended by nothing visible. Clawz spread his paw wider to reach further up the demi-maren's neck.

"You're Jackle, the wild card of the High Seekers. You're---my friend." He repeated the words as if he were assuring himself as much as Jackle. "You're my friend, and you're just the same as you've always been. That's never going to change, I promise."

"But I'm losing myself," Jackle sniffed, wiping a quick hand across his face. Clawz pressed closer, holding the demi-maren against his chest and continuing to keep a comforting paw on his shoulders. 

"No, you're not. You're right here, with your friend. See, I'm right here."

"M'kay." Jackle sniffled again and bent his head, wrapping his arms about himself and slumping against the catmaren next to him. They stood there for a long time.


	6. A Song With Too Many Tunes

AN: All I can say is, I'm sorry. 

Don't kill me, please.

Disclaimer: "It was her fault entirely! Don't hurt any of we muses! It's HER FAULT!"---AC

__

Whispers of springtime.

Death in the night.

A song

With too many tunes.

Fragment, by Carl Sandburg

__

Chapter Six:

A Song With Too Many Tunes

Strix, done with training for the day, stepped in the Infirmary quietly. The maren he was looked for was bent over one of the beds, her hands working. The bed, he noticed with a touch of dismay, had an occupant.

"I was led to believe all of those harmed in the attack had healed," he said in his soft voice, moving over to her side. Stella did not look up from what she was doing. 

"Aye, so was I."

The student lying in the bed was Nyct, the deep purple of her clothes giving away who she was. The wound she'd received from the golgoth, a deep tearing gash in her hand, was what Stella was currently tending; but Strix noticed that she seemed to be ill in other ways. An unnatural flush tinged her face, and her breathing was a bit thick, as if she were trying to breath around a wad of something in her throat. Her eyes were closed.

Strix knelt by his teacher's side, watching her movements with practiced eyes, noting that she seemed to be trying to clean out the wound a second time. "What's wrong with her?"

"Looks like th' wound's got i'self infected." Stella sounded grim. "An' it's a Serin infection, t' boot."

Strix wrinkled his brow. "Serin…" he repeated thoughtfully. "I…don't remember ever hearing that name…"

"No' a surprise, Strix. Hand me tha' bottle'a aloe vera paste, will yi?" She took the brown clay bottle he proffered. "It's been a' least four hundred years since I've seen a case of it. It's a strange type of infection, only happens to a wound tha's from some types of shadowbeasts…stone creatures, especially. S'first time I've seen it since th' end o' the Taming Age…" She sighed, her fingers skillfully applying the soothing balm of aloe vera. "An' I haven't a single sprig of woodsbane, tha's the worst part. It's th' only herb tha'll really stop the burnin' and heal it quick…'thout it, I can only let th' infection burn out on it's own."

Strix watched Nyct's face more closely. Her mouth with set in a tight line, and he realized with a bit of shock that she was awake. Apparently she didn't want to speak for fear of crying out.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked back down at the ugly gash that was now red and swollen. "What can we do for her until we get some woodsbane?"

"Jus give her a cool cloth on th' forehead and get tha' herb quick," was Stella's less than optimistic reply. She jerked her head towards a pile of white cloths that sat on a table nearby. "Get some water from th' kitchens or th' channel outside, will yi?"

"Yes'm." Strix straightened and left, casting a worried glance over Nyct's pale face as he did.

"Evening, Strix. What's the water for?"

Strix dipped the bucket into the channel of clear-running water that burbled up from a small spring near the edge of the courtyard and ran back underground several yards away, taking an underground tunnel to meet the Windingwater in Mystic Forest. It was the water source for the entire castle. "Miss Stella needs it. For Nyct."

"What's wrong with her?" Morgen's expression became worried. "She isn't hurt, is she?"

"Yes, she is." He gave Morgen a half-smile as he hoisted the bucket up. "If you don't mind, I have to get this back up quickly…"

"Of course." Morgen grasped the handle of the bucket, removing it from the other's grip. "You just spent the day training, I'll carry the thing. Now tell me what's wrong."

"It's her wound," explained Strix, following Morgen as they headed indoors and began weaving their way through the halls. "It's gotten infected, and it's not an infection Miss Stella can treat right now."

"Not an infection she can treat right now?" Morgen frowned, stepping to the side to allow a few girls to pass and gazing over their heads at Strix. "What do you mean?"  
"She says it's an infection that's only passed on by some types of dreambeasts. She called it a Serin infection."

"A Serin infection?" Morgen's eyes widened in recognition. "Ohhh, not one of _those_…"

"Yes." Strix side-stepped his sister Varia, who was gazing to the other end of the hallway at someone and didn't see him at first. He gave her a small wave, and she smiled in reply. He noticed that she didn't seem to be very happy, though; almost introspective. Her eyes were distant. 

"It's been ages since we've had one of those around," continued Morgen quietly. "Poor girl…she must feel awful."

"She didn't look very well."

"No, I doubt she would." He stepped back to let Strix open the door of the Infirmary, nodding his thanks. "Evening, Miss Stella. Where do you want this water?"

"Ri' here," replied the healer, not bothering to ask why the actor had brought the bucket instead of her former apprentice. She was busy swabbing delicately at Nyct's hand; the girl was breathing quickly, each breath whistling out through her clenched teeth and then sucking in sharply. Morgen placed the bucket on the floor gently and backed off.

Strix moved to Stella's side. "What should I do with the water?"

"Get one a' those cloths over on th' table, an' dip it in well. Wring it out an' put in on her forehead. She's burnin' up."

Strix did as told, his fingers moving swiftly from long hours of practice. Morgen watched from a short distance away, his eyes softening when he took in Nyct's pained expression and the way she gripped at the sheets, fingers digging deep into the bedclothes.

"Stella." He spoke softly, not wanting to make Nyct try to focus on another source of confusion. "Strix said you have no woodsbane."

"Aye, not a sprig." Stella bent over the wound, speaking to the girl. "Now hold tight, Nyct, this'll sting somethin' for a moment…"

Nyct let out a short cry before biting her lip fiercely. Morgen winced, one hand gripping his other arm, fingers dancing worriedly. "She's only going to get worse if you don't get some woodsbane on that soon."

"Y'think I don't know tha'?" Stella's eyes narrowed, showing her dislike at having to cause her patient pain. "Jus' a sec more, Nyct, there's a bad spot a' rot here…I haven't a single bit, Morgen, an' I can't send someone out at night, not wi' tha' golgoth or whatever roamin' about."

Nyct hissed and gripped the sheets tighter. Morgen gave a small noise of pain, as if he were the one who were lying on the bed. 

"Oh, shove it all!" He turned and went to the cabinet, searching for the bottle labeled 'woodsbane'. "That's going to start burning like mad if you don't counteract that infection soon, and she's not going to lie there all night as it gets worse if I have anything to say about it!" He snatched the bottle from its place on the shelf and headed for the door. "I'm going out, so expect me back with some soon. Get some water boiling for the poultice."

"Morgen, yi're very well likely t' get yirself attacked if y' go out t' the swamps at night," snapped Stella.

"I'm not letting that poor girl suffer if I can do something about it," repeated Morgen, and shut the door behind him.

Stella sighed and bent back over her work, trying to clean out any small amount of infected flesh she could find, knowing that once the infection began burning the pain would be worse than the ache of having it cleaned. "Once he gets back, I'm goin' t' hit 'im over th' head with a splint," she muttered.

"Tip up."

Chank rubbed a hand across his eyes at his brother's nudge, and obediently straightened up. He nodded his head once at the newcomer to the walltop, slightly taken aback by the maren who had come up. 

Morgen smiled in return, inhaling. "Mm, it's a nice breeze up tonight."

Chink nodded. The actor saw the unsaid question in his eyes.

"I'm going out for a bit," he explained, gesturing towards Mystic Forest to the west. "Miss Stella needs some more herbs, and they simply can't wait until tomorrow."

The green-haired brothers exchanged glances. "That's not a good idea," replied Chank quietly. "Now that we've had another attack, Lord Reala won't allow any maren out alone."

"Not even one of the older ones?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I have to go out," returned Morgen, urgently. "There's a girl in the Infirmary with a Serin infection, and Stella hasn't any woodsbane to counter the effects. She's going to be in torture if I don't get her some."

Chink and Chank exchanged looks, silently conferring. Chink began lowering his spear. "I'll---"

"No, I."

"I'd rather it be me."

"I should."

Morgen glanced between the two of them. "Excuse me, but please remember someone else is here and they don't know what you're both thinking. Are you coming along with?"

"Neither of you can leave your post," interrupted a third voice. Hist had climbed the stairs behind them, moving in his usual noiseless step, never giving away his presence until he spoke. "It's still several hours until my watch. I will go with him."

"Thanks, Hist." Morgen turned back to the guards. "Now can we go?"  
"Yes." Chink stepped aside, allowing the actor to walk to the edge of the wall. "But don't linger--rumor is there's a golgoth in Mystic Forest."

"We weren't planning on it." Hist stalked past the two and, without further ado, leaped off into the air. Morgen followed.

Chank watched as the two maren flew for Mystic Forest, one black-haired, one white. "Let's hope they get back safely."

They were hunting.

Giant stone paws crushed the low-growing flowers, leaving round indentations to mark their passing on the mossy forest floor. Dagger-length claws pierced the flower petals without a sound. They passed silently through the forest, moved on into shadows, and were forgotten by the night.

Behind them, sharp hooves trotted noiselessly, tracking, stalking. They too passed over the delicate flowers, their sharp edges driving the fallen, bruised petals into the dirt, half-moons of crushed color pressed like a wax seal. A seal of a death warrant; something would die to tonight.

They were hunting.

Hist alighted on the mossy floor silently, standing tall and surveying their surroundings with a cautious eye. Morgen shivered and drew his cloak tighter about himself. "Brr…cold night. Right, woodsbane."

"Where should we look for it?"

"Woodsbane likes shaded, moist places," explained Morgen, kneeling and feeling the earth. "It grows near swamps and against logs…I'd say we're in a nice spot." He poked his finger in the earth, testing the wetness of the dirt and mould. 

"Very well. Shall we split up?"

"I don't know." He straightened once more and pulled out his tinder and flint, lighting the torch he'd brought with some difficulty. "That's asking for danger, but it would go twice as quick…might be best."

"Perhaps. But Lord Reala's rule," he added as an afterthought. "Staying together is mandatory."

"I guess. Only have one torch, anyway." Morgen pulled his collar up. "Okay, let's find it, then. Give a holler if you see anything that looks promising."

Hist gave a small 'hn' that could be called an agreeing noise.

Holding the torch high, Morgen began searching. Hist kept step with him, eyes scanning the ground sharply, looking for the tell-tale five-leaf pattern that would denote woodsbane. They only had a short time to finish the hunt, they knew.

They weren't the only ones hunting tonight.

Deeper in Mystic Forest, a creature caught the scent of something new.

The golgoth halted and lifted its head, nostrils twitching; eyes open, it sniffed the air, looking in different directions as it tried to distinguish what the scent was and where it was coming from. Eventually the word 'nightmaren' came to its mind, and with a huff of annoyance it continued on its way. Nightmaren were small game; it was looking for something bigger tonight.

It did not know that it was being hunted as well. This hunter was not content to let the new scent go so easily; he paused, sniffing. A back hoof struck the ground thoughtfully, and then he grinned. This trail could be abandoned; easier game was afoot.

Turning, he vanished into the forest, leaving nothing but a path of bruised flower petals in his wake.

"Ugh!"

Morgen stepped back quickly. Hist's head jerked up to find his companion. "What?"

"We've hit the swampland." Morgen rubbed his foot on the drier grass, wrinkling his nose. "If it wasn't so dark I would have known we were by it. Watch your step, it's a veritable pond right around here---and you can certainly tell by the smell." He shook his head once like a horse that has scented something distasteful, silver hair whipping about his face with the movement; then he bent down and scanned the ground carefully, his waning torch held low. "But there's a better chance we'll find woodsbane here than anywhere else."

Hist nodded and bent low as well. The torch's wavering light flickered eerily off the half-hidden water, giving the effect of a strange, other-worldly green phosphor hovering about them in drifting patches. Overhead, the pale moon cast only a shadow of light through the thick cluster of branches overhead that no nightmaren could fly through.

A splash off to their right made the two jerk their heads up, dragged to a halt. The sound did not come again.

Morgen glanced at Hist questioningly, and the guard made a slight motion of his shoulders, indicating he did not know what it was. For a moment the two stood there silently, waiting, listening; the forest and swamp about them were silent.

Morgen tensed, hand drifting slowly to the sword hanging at his side. His intuition, which was quite strong, was shivering up and down his skin. He gave a slight shudder.

Without further warning another splash reverberated through the swamp, and the thud of hoof-beats splashed towards them. Morgen and Hist both straightened quickly, swords leaping to their hands. Morgen held the torch high.

Its reedy light reflected off of the nearing form of an Equs.

The centaur-like creature's sword glimmered in the torchlight, small shards of illumination dancing across the dark armor that covered its arms. It's human head was bent low in concentration as it galloped towards them; the mouth of the ram's head spouting out of its chest was open, and it was screaming horribly. Its horns poured smoke.

Morgen leapt back, water splashing at his heels. "Shards, it's an _Equs!_"

In the next instant the dreambeast was within striking range. They both dove to the side, Hist swinging up his sword to meet the crushing blow the Equs had aimed at him. The guard was thrown back from the sheer force of the hit, and from a few feet away he heard Morgen cry out in anguish as one of the horseman's steel-shod hoofs crushed his hand. The bones snapped.

The ram's head was still screaming. Hist staggered upright, nearly blinded by the smoke that was flooding from its horns, unable to use his hearing because of the terrible sounds it made. Some sixth instinct made him throw up his sword again in another defensive move, and he was just in time to catch another blow. Somewhere nearby Morgen was sobbing.

The strike drove him back onto his knees once more, and he had to roll over and shove himself away to avoid the crushing hooves. He spun and circled, trying to get to Morgen; with a start he found that the actor had managed to meet him, and together they fled through the swamp.

The ground beneath them was treacherous. Slimy rocks dotted the floor, covered in moss and invisible until they were stepped on; the moonlight, now the only illumination they had, was untrustworthy for it reflected off of algae-covered water and hard ground alike. 

The Equs reared up on all fours in triumph, finally screaming to the sky; the ram head shrieked in reply, and the two voices blended in twisted harmony. It came back onto all fours with a giant splash of murky water, and pounded after them.

Morgen was gasping, his arm held tight to his chest and silvery tears streaking down his face; broken bones grated in his hand. Hist held his sword tightly and prayed they would get out of the swamp soon. 

They had no hope of fleeing on foot, and flight was impossible with the thick overhanging vegetation. Once they reached clearer air, they could fly; all they could do was hope to evade their pursuer until they were able to fly. 

A scream resounded in their ears, and Morgen threw Hist to the side with a cry. The guard hit the ground hard and rolled with the impact, coming up to find Morgen trapped beneath the Equs' hooves, somehow uncrushed. The albino maren shot him a stare that was filled with pure fear. "Run! Get back to Nightmare!"

Hist did not bother replying. Biting his lip, he shot forward, trying to distract the Equs. 

The monster was not interested in being distracted. With a fling of his shield arm he blocked the guard's blow, and a swift slash of his sword sent Hist flying, eyes rolled back in his head and blood flung out in a crimson arc.

Morgen fled.

A scream tore through the dense swamp air.

Crewl Pole and Party fled through the swamp, scurrying to hiding holes in fear; the hunt was on, and they were in risk of become the hunted if they did not make themselves scarce. Sounds of pounding hooves and splashes of swamp water could be heard ringing through the marsh.

A nightmaren burst out of a thicket of hanging vines, shoving wet silver hair out of his face, silver eyes flickering hopefully towards the sky; the overgrowing limbs were still too thick to attempt flight. He splashed across the open clearing, slipping on wet stones and slimy moss. With a gasp he fell, sending up a wave of dirty water; he shoved himself up with desperate strength, sobbing. Hist was dead, stone dead…

Another scream ripped through the air, and the acrid, biting smell of the smoke that trailed from the horns on the ram's head filled his nostrils. With a bound the Equs was behind him, and he instinctively ducked and rolled, the blow that he'd sensed flying harmlessly over his head. He floundered in the water, staggering upright, ducking another blow, stepping back---straight into black water.

The black patches of ground were the most dangerous parts of the swamplands, more so than the slippery moss or the sucking mud. The black holes were deep and silent, going down farther than anyone had ever cared to measure; they went down for miles, some said. Noted only by a pure black spatter of non-color among the olive greens and slimy browns, the black holes were the places to be avoided at all costs; the trailing weeds that grew along their sides would catch you in a slippery hold, wrapping about your face and neck like oily fingers, choking the life out of you, refusing to let you return to the surface. So said nightmaren rumor.

Morgen arched his back, trying desperately to get his balance---and the Equs, not seeing where he was standing, threw a stunning blow with the flat of his sword that knocked the actor out of his senses. With a groan, eyes rolling to the side and blood tricking down his face, he fell back into the hole with a splash.

The Equs, realizing his mistake, kicked a back hoof in irritation; after a moment, when the silver-hared maren did not re-appear, he turned with a snort of disgust and cantered away through the marsh, hooves splashing up dirty circles of water. There was plenty of other game to be found. Behind him, Morgen was gripped by the slimy fingers of the hole's weeds.

They never found his corpse.


	7. When The Wind Is Southerly

AN: *winces and hides behind her Magi-Mexi-Oven* I'm just waiting for raving Morgen-lovers to beat down my door with torches and pitchforks…

Eh, anyway, here's the next chapter. Hope it's not as depressing as the last installment, ja?

Disclaimer: "Oh, GREAT, Avis, just GREAT. Three hundred 'maren in this castle, and WHO do you take out? The ONE 'maren people like! EXACTLY HIM! WHERE THE IDEYA IS YOUR BRAIN?! *someone murmurs something* Oh no no no no, don't you go blaming this on PLOT ADVANCEMENT! IT'S JUST SHEER STUPIDITY!"---AC

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Hamlet: Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb; lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, must show fairly outward, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.

Guildenstern: In what, my dear lord?

Hamlet: I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.

Hamlet, Prince Of Denmark, by William Shakespeare

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Chapter Seven:

When The Wind Is Southerly

" 'Morning, Puff," grinned Jackle, brushing beside her towards his place at the table. The rabbit-like maren nodded in reply, giving him an odd glance as she did. He returned it quizzically, and she blushed faintly and busied herself with pouring a cup of cider. Jackle raised a delicate eyebrow before slipping into his seat.

Gillwing's wide, honest face grew a large smile. "Good morning, Jackle!"

"Hey, Gill." Jackle gave him a pat on the neck, looking about as he did. "Why's everyone so quiet this morning?"

Clawz looked away, and Puffy concentrated on her drink. Gulpo returned Jackle's question with a small bubble. Reala was apparently ignoring all those about him.

"They weren't quiet before," contributed Gillwing helpfully, not seeing the dagger glares Clawz and Puffy both shot him. "They were talking a lot right until you sat down…"

He trailed off, wondering silently why Clawz looked annoyed. Jackle gazed between the two, quiet, before suddenly bursting into laughter.

"Oh, you two are just hilarious," he laughed, one gloved hand held up to his mouth. "Just hilarious! 'Oh, let's stop talking now that Jackle's come,' and then Gillwing…great!"

Clawz and Puffy exchanged glances. Reala, broken out of his pondering by Jackle's high, inhaling laughter, snapped in an irritated voice, "What's wrong with you, Jackle?"

"Why don't'cha ask them?" giggled Jackle, gesturing at Puffy and Clawz. The two animal-looking maren stared down at their food silently. Reala gazed from on end of the table to the other before deciding that whatever they were bickering about now wasn't worth his attention, and went back to his dark thoughts.

Jackle quieted, still giggling softly to himself as he began eating; Gillwing, utterly confused, sat silently and contemplated the confusing aspects of life and relationships. Clawz glanced quickly at Puffy, his voice taking on a lighter tone. "Cider? I don't know how you can drink that in so early in the morning…always makes my hairs stand on end."

"For your information, I like it very much," replied Puffy. 

"Everyone's different." Clawz smiled thinly. The table grew quiet, the plastic air of congeniality freezing into small smiles and quick glances. Jackle began humming happily as he built a tower out of orange slices.

"Luna."

The sparring instructor glanced up, distracted; in front of her Aster was holding a lance in a defensive position. Luna had been offering her a few tips on getting her grip right. "Yes?"

"I need t' talk t' yi."

"Is it---" The word 'important' died on her lips when she saw Stella's look, and she patted Aster's shoulder. "We'll continue that another time, Aster. You're doing wonderful."

"Thank you, Miss Luna!" Aster beamed brightly and bowed, then skipping off to join the other lancers who had waited patiently after class for her. Their happy chatter faded out of hearing as they went down the hall.

Luna rested her own lance, a new one she'd acquired after giving away her old weapon, against the wall and folded her arms. "What?"

"A lot. Nyct's come down wi' a Serin infection last eve, first a' all." 

"A Serin infection?" Luna's eyes widened in worry. "Nyct? And last night---have you given her a woodsbane mash yet?"

"Tha's the problem!" Stella's normally calm expression crinkled into one of anxiety and annoyance at her own inability to change the situation. "I haven't a bit---it's been years since I've seen a case a' Serin infection, I wasn't expecting it!"

"Then poor Nyct---"

"Tha's not the worst," inserted Stella, angrily. "Morgen came in last night and saw the girl in the fever---an' the fool went out to get her some woodsbane himsel'!"

"Alone? At night?" Luna's hands clenched into fists. "That daft-headed---"

"An' he hasn' come back."

Luna paused, a heavy feeling settling on her stomach. For a moment the teacher and the healer stared at each other. Luna's question came out almost mechanically. "When did he leave?"

"Only an hour or so after sundown, mebbe sooner."

Luna turned away, face set. "Oh, Wizeman."

"Mm-hm." Stella left the room silently. Luna, reaching for the lance leaned against the wall, was reminded strongly of the moment when Morgen had handed it to her, his face shining. _"Here! It's all yours---I made Amaranth give it a special twist near the top of the blade, see? That special dip! Now it'll adapt more easily to those slashing moves you love! And I found a nice bit of green-dyed leather for the grip, so it'll match those green clothes you wear so much…"_

She picked up the lance gently, her fingers tightening about the olive-colored leather bound to its shaft. She could feel tears forming.

"What the---"

"Who's that?"

"Gloaming, open the gates! Now!"

"_By the skies above_---someone, get this maren to a healer!"

Stella looked up as the Infirmary door was slammed open. Gloaming, the gate-guard, stood in the doorway; in his arms he held a sodden, mumbling figure. Stella leaped up and jerked her head towards the nearest bed. "Put 'im there."

Gloaming did as told and backed off, allowing the healer to stand over her new patient. "He came in the front gate," he explained in his silken voice. "Last eve he went out with another to gather woodsbane, I'm told."

"Yah, yah, tha's all I need t' know." Stella gestured distractedly towards the door. "Y' head on back t' yi're post, now."

Gloaming bowed out. On the bed, the mud-covered maren mumbled and moved restlessly, his eyes rolling open. Stella placed a comforting hand on his forehead, her eyes dancing over his body to try and find any wounds. "Hush now, yi're safe in th' Infirmary. Hush now."

Hist moaned, and then his eyes shot open. He straightened and actually managed to sit up, caked mud crumbling off his face. "Morgen!"

"Hush, lie still!" scolded Stella, hurrying to press him back down. "Be still, yi're in no shape to sit up."

"Morgen!" insisted Hist, struggling against her; his strength failed then, and he fell back with a sigh. As he did, she caught sight of a gruesome gash that stretched along his left side, from ear to hip. "Morgen…it's an Equs…"

"Hush!" commanded Stella, her heart racing as she jerked over the bucket of water that lay by Nyct's bed. The girl had wrapped herself tightly in a swath of covers and was moaning into them. Stella turned away and bent over Hist, trying to roll him on his side. "Hush, Hist, yi're only goin' t' bleed yirself out if yi' don't calm down!" _'An Equs?' _

Hist seemed to hear her, for he obediently stopped rolling about; he still mumbled feverishly, however. "Morgen…under…"

Stella bit her lip and circled around the bed, dragging the bucket with her. Dipping a cloth into the water, she began to try and wipe off the wound so she would be able to clean it. "Hush…" _'What does he mean, Morgen's under?'_

Hist sucked in a fierce breath as her gentle fingers touched his wound, and he tried to shy away. She continued dabbing at the caked mud and dried blood that had covered his side and hair in a crusty mess. "Hold still, Hist!"

"Morgen," mumbled Hist despairingly, giving in to her ministrations. For a moment, the room was silent apart from Nyct's muffled moans coming from under the covers.

Suddenly, Hist straightened, and his wild eyes found Stella's face. "Stella?"

"Yes?" The healer patted carefully at a blood clot.

"Stella, listen!" Hist grabbed her wrist, his weak grip barely able to drag her hand away from the wound. "Stella, listen!"

"I'm listenin'," replied the healer, hoping that if the guard was able to get out whatever was bothering him he'd then calm down. "What is it?"

"Stella, there's an Equs in the woods."

She stared at him. Behind them, Nyct screamed into the bedclothes.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Jackle looked up from his book, smiling absently at the catmaren. The plush chair he was sitting in was far larger than him, making him sit in the middle with his legs spread out like a toddler playing with blocks on the floor; he was holding a large tome. Clawz, looking at him, got the impression of a young child looking at his father's books. "The Library's a nice place."

Clawz sat down next to the chair and looked over the demi-maren's shoulder. "What're you looking at now?"

"Oh, more on the dreambeasts," replied Jackle calmly, and closed the book, one finger between its leaves to mark his place. He leaned onto the armrest, his head propped in his hand. "So, what have you been up to?"

"Nothing, really. Just checking on the training sessions." Clawz chuckled. "They have quite some way to go."

"Well, what with Reala tossing them in entirely different sections without any warning, that's only to be expected."

"True."

Jackle looked down at his book, his fingers playing along its edges; he was working up the courage to ask Clawz a question. Finally he got it out, his voice carefully casual. "So…how have I done today? So far?"

Clawz blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Y'know, last night." Jackle gestured vaguely.

"Wha---oh."

"Yeah, that."

Clawz looked down, applying serious thought to the question. "Fairly well. You were a bit wonky this morning at breakfast; you seemed to be a bit too carefree."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Jackle slumped down into the large chair dejectedly. 

"You can't tell on your own?"

"Not really, no. I mean---I know that people are looking at me funny, so that's an obvious clue that I'm being weird, and later on I can look back on it and see something wrong, but not while it's happening. It just feels…normal, somehow. Like it's what I'm supposed to do."

"Mm."

"It's weird," he continued, after a moment. "I know that I shouldn't be acting so happy, but I really can't make myself care. And then it's like my body tries to make up for it by bringing up all these worries…like those golgoths. Why are they here? Where'd they come from? Why now? That's what I'm trying to figure out right now…" He lifted the book half-heartedly. 

"Found anything?"

"No, nothing yet. Nothing that I didn't already know."

"Maybe you're looking at the wrong books."

"I know which books I need to look at. And they're not these."

"Why don't you look at the right ones, then?"

"Because I'm not allowed to!" Jackle spat this out, his eyes wide. Clawz pulled back slightly, shocked by the fire that had flared up in the demi-maren's eyes; glancing down, he saw that Jackle's hands were trembling.

"Jackle?"

"What?"

"Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm _fine_! I---" He halted, breathing hard. Small voices began murmuring in his mind. 

_Dark, so dark and oh so pain it hurts does it not? So dark and strange and sharp and blurry and a shadow cage of moving black where's light? No light just dark and black and lightening pain---_

"I---no, I'm not. I can't talk about it. Not allowed to. No, can't go there, master, promised I wouldn't! Promised I wou---no, master, _don't!_"

"Jackle!" snapped Clawz, trying to bring the demi-maren back to the present. "Jackle, look at me!"

"I---oh, dear Ideya," mumbled Jackle, burying his head in his invisible arms. "It was so dark…"

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Dark and cold---where's light? No light! No light to see, no light to feel---all's darkness in the merging world!

Clawz reached out tentatively and placed a gentle paw on the demi-maren's shoulders, hoping that what had worked last night would also work this morning. Why he felt so protective of this person he'd once hated, he still wasn't sure; but it felt right to be comforting him, offering him friendship. "Hush, Jackle, whatever happened, it's not happening any more."

"It was so very dark," whimpered Jackle. "So dark, and I was all alone…"

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Alone alone yes very alone and no one was there and we were alone we're all alone precious, all very alone…

"You're not alone any more, Jackle." _'What the Ideya is he talking about? Is he slipping into deliria?'_

"It hurt," sniffed Jackle. "Hurt so much…I didn't do anythin' wrong, master, promise I didn't…"

__

Did it all, dear pet, did it all and more and wouldn't tell, no, and we wouldn't tell!

"That's right, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Yeah…nuthin' wrong."

_Yes you did, yes you---_

"You did nothing wrong."

Jackle looked up, his eyes bright and starry from the tears gathered in them, and managed a smile. "It's all right, then."

_No!_

"Mm-hm."

Jackle sighed, allowing his eyes to drift shut. "Can't talk about it," he mumbled. "Won't."

"You don't have to."

"Master doesn't like people readin' 'em. He gets awfully mad…hurts."

_Ignore him, pet, he's trying to hurt…_

"It won't happen again, I promise."

"Tha's why he said don' talk about 'em," explained Jackle.

"Mm-hm."

For a moment neither of them spoke; then Jackle opened his eyes, blinking. He looked up at Clawz quizzically, green eyes wide in innocence. "What were we talking about?"

"…dreambeasts."

"Oh yeah. Like I was saying, I can't find much on them."

Clawz, remembering the last reaction to this question, decided to take a different route of conversation. "Maybe you'll find something soon."

"Yeah." Jackle's eyes drifted down to the short, thick handwriting sprawled across the page, and almost without realizing it he began reading again. Clawz, noticing his drift of attention, smiled and patted his shoulder.

"I'll see you later."

"Sure, see you," replied Jackle, absently. 

"An _Equs?_"

"Tha's what he says, Luna. I cunna get anythin' more from 'im b'fore he dropped off. 'Twas exhausted to his limit."

Corbeau steepled his fingers, gazing at the far wall silently. Next to him, Dysdane sat on the couch, her legs folded gracefully; they and Luna were the only three maren Stella had found in the lounge. Luna had apparently been explaining the current situation to the other two. Dysdane cleared her throat. "I think it's time the leaders were notified of this."

"You bet it is." Luna stood up, shoving tangled hair out of her face. "I'm going to find Lord Reala. Stella, you'd better go back and check on Hist---see if you can get anything more out of him. I---"

"Who the nightmares do you think you are, Luna?" 

Luna halted and stared back at Dysdane. "What?"

"For the love of dreams, calm down," remonstrated the thin maren, uncrossing and then re-crossing her legs to be more comfortable. "You're beating yourself against the walls in a frenzy, but you know perfectly well that's not going to help. Stop falling apart and do what you need to do; we know how to take care of ourselves, thank you."

Luna gave a small, giddy laugh. "Of course. I was just---yes. Sorry."

"Go find Reala." Stella gave her a gentle push towards the door, and the sparring instructor exited obediently. As the door closed behind her, Dysdane shook her head.

" 'Swear, once something bad happens, she loses all reason."

"She's just anxious." Stella turned away. "As'm I. Morgen…I don't think he's alive, Dysdane."

"Neither do I." She stood, brushing down the long shirt she wore over her sleek clothes. "But if we don't keep calm, you know no one else will."

Reala was in one of the training rooms, watching the Second Power division go through their various exercises. The Power divisions had become an obsession with the Seeker General; he watched them fixatedly, continually testing them, making them go beyond their limits, demanding strict attention. Strix was beginning to look very worn-down.

"You!" The boy being pointed at straightened quickly. "Your left arm's not being held as tight as the right---stiffen up! You!" The next victim started. "You're not a statue---loosen up your legs! Move as you punch!"

"Lord Reala," began Luna.

"Not now, Luna, go back to your instructing. Tell me tonight after the work's done!"

"But this is important," murmured Luna insistently. 

"Twenty push-ups, now!" barked Reala, and the students obediently dropped to their hands and feet. He turned to her. "Make it quick."

"Lord Reala, Morgen and Hist went out to gather some herbs last night."

"They went out at night?" interrupted Reala. "The fools."

"One of the students who was attacked by the golgoth has an Serin infection. They went out to get Miss Stella some woodsbane. Only Hist returned this morning. He was cut from ear to hip, and he said that there's an Equs in the woods."

"An Equs?" Finally Reala dropped the stern general façade and stared openly at her, though not for long. With a blink he recovered. "Very well. He is in the Infirmary?"

"Yes."

"I will speak to him." He turned away.

"Lord Reala---what about Morgen?"

"What about him?"

"We need to send out a search party!"

"Yes, fine. Send out a search party." He gestured to the students panting nearby. "The rest of the session is adjourned. Do twenty more push-ups, and then you're free to go."

The students dropped down to the floor once more, puffing.

Stella did not look up as the Infirmary door slammed open; she was still busy trying to clean Hist's wound. The maren guard lay suffering in silence, his only utterance the occasional moan as the healer dabbed at the raw and dirty flesh that opened in a horrible gash down his side. His fingers were clenched tightly in the sheets.

"You." Reala moved close to the guard's bed, ignoring Nyct, who was moaning ceaselessly from several spaces down, bedclothes wrapped about her in a tight cocoon. "You say there's an Equs in the woods?"

Hist nodded tensely, hissing through his teeth as Stella touched something that didn't want to be touched. Reala pressed him for details. "What happened?"

"Excuse me, mi'lard, but now's not really th' best time t' be askin' him questions," muttered Stella, dipping her cloth into the bucket of water at her side and wringing out the crimson coating it had acquired. "He's not in th' best a' shape just now. Canna yi wait at least till I'm done fixin' th' wound?"

"We don't have the time," Reala snapped, his ice-blue eyes turning decisively from her and focusing once more upon the guard's sweating face. "Tell me what happened."

"Morgen needed to find an herb for her," wheezed Hist, gesturing vaguely towards Nyct, who was now wailing into her covers with a high, muffled keening sound. "We were in Mystic Forest when we were attacked…" He closed his eyes briefly, partly from the pain of having his wound washed, partly from the hurt of the memory. "I was knocked unconscious. When I came to, I followed the tracks that Morgen and the Equs left---they led straight to a pit, and only---only the Equs' went away…" He choked.

Reala was not here to sympathize, he was here to ask questions. "You're sure it was an Equs?"

"Of _course_ I'm sure!" sputtered Hist, blood beginning to dribble from the corner of his mouth and fingers digging harshly into the sheets. "How could I mistake something for an _Equs?_ It was an _Equs _that killed him, I tell you!"

"Hush, hush!" commanded Stella, pressing him back against the pillows and shooting Reala a tense glare. "Now if yi're done wi' the interrogation, then, would yi' mind steppin' out while I try and calm this poor maren down?"

Reala ignored the challenging sarcasm in her voice and turned away.

Gloaming slipped into the pathway that led to the gate, asking the question he was required to give. "Where are you going?"

"To search for Morgen," replied Luna evenly. "He left last night and hasn't returned yet." Behind her, Corbeau, Lunatic, Dysdane, and Apathy---the only maren she'd been able to find on short notice---nodded in agreement.

"He went out with Hist last night," murmured Gloaming. "Hist came back earlier this morning."

"He did? When?"

"Just a short time ago. He was badly wounded and unable to form an understandable sentence. He's in the Infirmary now."

Luna pulled back slightly, turning to look at the maren behind her. Corbeau tapped his fingers on his arm. "What now, Luna?"

"I don't know," admitted the sparring instructor. Things were rapidly spinning out of her control. "Morgen is still out there---we need to go find him."

"All right." Lunatic levitated, staring at those around him impatiently. "Well, come on! Let's go!"

Without a word the other four rose into the air as well, and Gloaming watched silently as they flew over the castle walls.

The glassy eye was open wide, its surface reflecting the gardens circling Nightmare Castle. Slowly it focused on a younger group of maren.

"I'm sick of being worked like a dog," muttered one.

"Tell me about it. Reala's getting worse and worse every day!"

"Wouldn't you just love to stomp up to him and yell, 'I quit!' in his face?"

"Oh, dreams, wouldn't I!"

The stone hand clenched tightly, erasing the image. _'Just as I thought…'_

A knock reverberated through the shadowed space about him. "Lord Wizeman?"

Identifying the faint voice as that of Reala, Wizeman turned slowly to face the doors. "Enter."

Reala did as ordered, striding urgently up to the foot of Wizeman's throne and bowing deep at the waist; straightening again, he took on an almost apologetic tone. "Forgive me for intruding, master, but you must be made aware of a new problem."

"And that is?"

"Two maren, the Armory tender and a guard, went into the Forest last evening. The guard returned alone, heavily wounded, and he claims there is an Equs in the forest."

"An Equs?" Two hands hovered nearer, their glassy eyes gazing at his face.

"Yes, master. He is quite certain that is what attacked them and killed his companion."

The hands pulled back silently. Reala waited respectfully, eyes carefully kept low, wondering secretly what was going on inside his master's mind. For some time, Wizeman did not speak; when he did, his voice was calm but low. "A golgoth attacks twice; within days another kills a boy. Now an Equs has attacked a guard and killed another. What do you make of this, Reala?"

Reala answered with the first thing that came to mind. "Something's seriously wrong here."

Wizeman did not chuckle, but Reala thought he saw the ruler's mouth quirk up slightly in a wry smile. The matter, however, was not one to laugh about, as evidenced from the lowness his master's voice still held. "There has been a disettlement of energy in the Dream World of late. You have felt this?"

"Yes, my lord," Reala faltered.

"You did not mention it to me."

"No, my lord…I…" Pause. "I believed it to be a personal reaction to…"

"I see." One of the hands turned slightly to eye him again. "Tell me about these things in the future, Reala."

"Yes, my lord."

The hand turned away, and there was another moment of silence.

"Are there any other unusual things you have been aware of that I have not been told?"

"No, master."

"Very well. I want these encounters examined. Send out a troop of fighters to investigate the Equs."

"Very well."

For a moment, Wizeman seemed to fall into personal reverie. "If only we could read them…but no, those secrets are lost forever."

Reala bowed his head silently; he knew what his master was talking about. Wizeman came out of his pondering. "You are excused, Reala."

The Seeker General bowed silently and went out. Behind him, Wizeman fell once more into rumination. _'Things are becoming worse. I may have to make use of that energy after all.'_

A faint outline of a hovering globe behind him glimmered faintly in answer to his thoughts.


	8. Paper Wings

AN: Nope, nothing t'say, apart from to enjoy.

Disclaimer: "…nothing to say? That was pitiful."---Bass

Disclaimer Num. 2: "Nothing to say? That was a miracle."---AC

__

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,

On a white heal-all, holding up a moth

Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth---

Assorted characters of death and blight

Mixed ready to begin the morning right,

Like the ingredients of a witches' broth---

A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,

And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

What had that flower to do with being white,

The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?

What brought the kindred spider to that height,

Then steered the white moth hither in the night?

What but design of darkness to appall?---

If design govern in a thing so small.

Design, by Robert Frost

__

Chapter Eight:

Paper Wings

"Oy, Luna!"

"What?"

"Here's an interesting group of footprints…hoof prints, more like it."

Luna was by Lunatic's side in a shot. "Where?"

The sage-green maren hovered lower, gesturing at the churned mud that lay below them. "Check out the scoop-shaped holes all over the place. Looks like a hoofed creature was here---heavy one, too."

"The Equs," Luna breathed, then jerked her head up. "Cor, Path, Dysdane! This way!"

"What'd you find?" queried the scout, Apathy following close behind. Dysdane was making her way through some heavier vegetation, and reached them moments later looking quite irritated.

"Blasted vines---don't try flying any further ahead. It's a maze of limbs."

"Look." Luna gestured down to where Lunatic had landed on the muddy floor, getting a closer look at the markings. "Fringe says that those are hoof marks."

"Fringe is right." Dysdane dropped next to him. "Any nightmaren markings?"

"Yes." Lunatic pointed carelessly at the shallow indentations that went off ahead of them. "Two people, I'd judge. Looks like we found where they met up with it."

"Mm-hm." 

Luna looked around and shivered slightly, brushing quickly at her eyes; behind her, Corbeau put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She gave him a watery glance. 

Lunatic straightened and looked back at the sparring instructor and scout. "Well, let's follow them."

"M'kay." Luna wiped her eyes once more and resolutely followed after him.

The tracks were fairly easy to follow, despite the fact that they often dipped into water or liquid mud; broken limbs and hardened dirt showed the path. Soon they came upon a wide circle of markings, as if a struggle had taken place; the hooves circled wide, and one pair of footsteps suddenly came from some distance away, as if the owner had been tossed far. The other pair and the hooves headed off into the swamp once more, and the abandoned pair followed. The trackers did as well.

Picking her way through the swampy floor, Luna found herself feeling sick. A lethal struggle had happened here only a short time ago; her friend had died somewhere nearby. Had it been dark, she would have half-expected to see the faint, flitting form of Morgen's ghost following them, peering down with sightless eyes from the shelter of the trees, his wispy silver hair floating about his expressionless face in a white mist. She shuddered and swallowed.

Up ahead, Lunatic threw up a hand to signal for them to stop; he'd found something. The others gathered behind him.

They had reached the edges of a watery section of the swamp, where the mud was covered in a thin layer of green and mold-sheeted water. One or two dark patches lurked under the water's surface, denoting the dangerous holes that spotted the swamp. The footsteps led directly to one of them; one pair walked away, and the hooves cantered off in another direction. One pair did not re-appear from the edge.

They followed the trail silently, moving to the very edge of the black patch, where they gathered about it and stared into its inky mouth. Sodden water lapped at their ankles. Far off, a Hollow shrieked.

Luna sniffed then, and began crying. Corbeau silently put a hand about her shoulder and allowed her to weep into his chest, her hands over her face to block out the sight of the awful, gaping hole that had extinguished her friend's life. The others waited patiently, every now and then finding themselves gazing in morbid fascination at the black blotch that marred the olive surface of the water.

Finally Luna sniffled and stood on her own, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Cummon…we need to follow that beast. We have to see if there's more."

"Is that wise?" questioned Apathy quietly.

"Maybe not, but the Ideya I care," snarled Luna. "It's the least we owe him."

Corbeau and Dysdane exchanged glances; Lunatic shrugged, arms folded. "Why not. We owe it to him. And Lord Reala would probably want us to do it anyway."

"Yeah." Luna gripped her lance fiercely. "Come on."

Silently, they began following the hoof prints, Luna leading the way.

Chaotica was working hard, muscles tightening as she pounded dough for meat pies. Slowly the ball of dough spread out, and soon she was deftly cutting away circles and filling them, hands flipping each pie and swiftly sealing it shut. She worked silently, humming from time to time.

"Chaotica?"

She looked up briefly from her folding and forming. "What?"

A younger nightmaren had come up to her; Chaotica recognized her as one of the newer gatherers. The girl was quiet and mild, but she seemed intelligent enough, and she worked hard. Chaotica couldn't recall her name. "What is it?"

The girl held out a limp flower. Chaotica eyed it and then its holder. "What about it?"

She gestured to the flower in her hand. "It's white!"

"And?…"

"It's a heal-all!" The girl sounded frustrated. "It's not supposed to be white!"

"Oh." Chaotica bit her lip. "Well, I'm not very good with plant life…maybe it's an albino."

"No, all of them are like that!" She stamped her foot childishly. "They're supposed to be baby blue, but they're all white---something's wrong!"

"Something in the soil, then."

"They were blue several days ago!"

"They were?"

"I was there right before---you know---NiGHTS left. And they were blue." She stamped her foot again. "There's something wrong with them!"

Chaotica sighed and bent over her pastries again. "Okay, so there's something wrong with them."

"Why aren't you upset?!"

"Because it's a flower. Several flowers."

"It's not just the flowers!" She seemed close to tears. "It's everything! NiGHTS went crazy, and then the whole land rippled! Haven't you felt it? The Dream World's coming apart!"

Chaotica straightened, eyes half-closed. _'Why did I have to get the loony?'_

Turning, she placed her flour-dusted hands on the girl's shoulders. "Listen, whoever you are, calm down. You're acting like the sky's gonna fall. So the flowers are acting strange, so Lord NiGHTS lost it. We're still here, and we're gonna stay here. Calm down!"

"You don't believe me," whispered the girl heart-brokenly.

"No, I don't." Chaotica turned away. "Now why don't you go help out Keric or someone."

The girl was silent. Finally, she placed the flower on the counter, her voice soft. "Okay. But you'll see. You'll all see." Chaotica could hear her soft footsteps move away.

She looked down at the forlorn, wilted flower lying on the counter-top, small and bright beside the rows of pale meat pies. Black markings on the pure white petals made her bend closer to examine them, almost without knowing why.

They looked remarkably like a skull.

Lunatic wrinkled his nose. The Equs' tracks led through the swamp in a fairly straight line, weaving around thicker groves of twisted trees and stunted growth, sometimes disappearing into pools of murky water to re-appear on the farther side. The thick, muggy stench of the bog was becoming unbearable.

Ahead of him, Apathy halted and held his head high, sniffing the air. Corbeau come nearer. "What is it?"

"Getting fresher. It'll dry up soon."

"Thank goodness," muttered Luna. "I'm about to suffocate."

Dysdane swept past them, hovering just above the mud and mold that coated everything in a slimy cover. Peering ahead, she nodded. "The trees open up further along. Come."

They followed her; soon, the twisted limbs and knotty clumps of hanging moss over their heads grew less thick, and the ground became firmer and less treacherous. Light dappled down more brightly and made the murky water appear more clean.

Lunatic jumped into a deeper puddle of water, creating a splash that echoed throughout the silent swamp. Luna grabbed his shoulder. "What was that? You'll bring down who knows what on us!"

"So?"

She groaned and shoved him away, thrusting a hand through her tangled hair. "Oh, shut up."

Lunatic gazed after her, his usual expression of uncaring penetrated by surprise. Corbeau touched his shoulder gently. "Don't provoke her," he whispered. "She's not steady right now."

Lunatic shrugged and glided after the sparring instructor.

Apathy, ignoring the miniature outburst of bad tempers behind him, glided noiselessly into what seemed to be a clearing; as he came to it, he realized that the water at their feet was becoming more shallow. They'd reached the edge of the swamp.

The hoof-prints led away from the edges of the swamp and on into the deeper reaches of the forest, heading towards the western caves. Luna paused and leaned on her lance. "Think it's living in the caves?"

Apathy halted behind her, waiting until she'd taken a breath and moved on. "That's possible." 

Corbeau nodded. "The golgoth may have come from there, too. The Hunters stopped patrolling them at least two centuries ago…perhaps there are still a few of the dreambeasts left."

"A few left?" Dysdane stepped carefully over a fallen log. "How can you miss something the size of Clawz?"

"I have no idea," returned Corbeau wryly, "but apparently the Hunters managed to."

There was silence for a moment as they made their quiet way through the forest. Finally Luna spoke. "I'm going to have a word with Miss Calysta when we get back," she muttered. "I'm going to say, 'How the Ideya did you manage to not see an ancient dreambeast right in front of you?' "

"The same way you managed to walk right up to a herd of Equs without realizing it," replied Lunatic sourly.

Luna jerked her head up at him, irritated that he was still carrying a grudge over her bad temper earlier. "What in the name of nightmares do you---"

She halted, gazing at the herd of Equs that was gathered in a thicket of birch only a few yards in front of them. "…shards."

Nightmaren and Equs stared at each other. There were at least forty of the centaur-like creatures, all of them lying peacefully or smoking the queer short-necked pipes they loved so well. The smoke was thick and dense, and it mingled with the smoke trailing from the horns of the rams' heads that sprouted from their chests; a small cloud of fog had built up within the birches' branches.

In another moment, the entire herd was up and charging at them.

Corbeau wheeled around and took to the air, thankful that the overgrown limbs were clearer here. "Head for higher ground!"

The other nightmaren followed him up into the air, weaving their way through the branches, the sounds of the Equs' hooves pounding behind them. With a gasp Corbeau broke through the shelter of leaves, and as the others came next to him he turned and headed back the way they'd come, knowing better than to continue on either side where the forest would open into plains where the Equs would be able to truly use their speed. He called into the wind as he flew. "Stick close, hopefully we'll lose them in the swamp!"

Dysdane looked down, able to make out the blurred forms of the galloping Equs below them. The creatures were having some difficulty evading fallen logs and tree trunks while maintaining the speed they needed to follow the flying nightmaren; with some luck, Corbeau would be right. 

"Stupid creatures," she muttered.

"What the Ideya?"

Chank looked up at his brother. "What?"

"Look, over beyond Soft Museum."

Chank stood and shaded his eyes, gazing out northwest towards where Soft Museum, a stunning European garden, lay. He narrowed his eyes and focused. "The sky---"

"Yeah." Chink perched on the battlements, still staring out across to the forested hills beyond. "I've never seen it that color before, not at this time of day. Whatever's wrong?"

"I don't know." He pursed his lips, evaluating the odd swirl of lavender and---was that a hint of green?---that tinted the western sky over the hills beyond Soft Museum; his mind was scanning all of the odd skies he'd seen before, trying to find a match. "I don't believe I've ever seen it like that at any time of day. Is that a tinge of green?"

"I believe so." Chink fingered the pommel of his sword thoughtfully. "Perhaps we're in for another storm…"

"No, I don't believe so." Chank sniffed the air, shaking his head. His shaggy green hair drifted to stillness around his eyes. "There's no change in the air."

"Perhaps it's an after-effect of that storm we had a few days back."

"Yes, perhaps it is."

"Lord Reala?"

The general looked up distractedly from the book he was studying. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, just surprised to see you here." Jackle grinned cheerfully, swinging his feet back and forth from the seat of the great plush chair he was plopped on. His legs were spread wide, and he was laying back sloppily; for some reason, he reminded Reala of a child. 

He looked back down at his book, ignoring the demi-maren; Jackle giggled. Reala looked up once more. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," tittered Jackle. "I've just got such funny voices in my head…"

Reala stared at him for a moment before focusing back on the page before him. Jackle, after a moment, hovered near to peer over his shoulder. "What'cha readin'?"

"Nothing that concerns you," snapped Reala, slightly unsettled despite himself. "Now back off!"

"No need to get so pushy, boss," whined Jackle, drifting back a bit. After a moment he brightened again. "I've been reading too, see?"

"I don't CARE if you---" He stopped and evaluated the book the demi-maren held out more closely. "What's that? It's not in Dreamin."

" 'Course it's not, stupid!" laughed Jackle. "It's in Latin! All uctus and onus and oro!"

"Uctus and onus and oro?" repeated Reala, giving the book another close stare. "What of nightmares---"

"That's what they put on the end of their words, y'know!" explained Jackle. "It's considered a high old way of speaking."

"By who?" 

"The dreamers, of course! They think it all high and mighty---personally, I think people who talk in it sound like their jaws are too loose, but then, that's just me…"

"You can understand this?"

" 'Course! Wouldn't readin' it if I couldn't---I know a lot of languages!"

Reala took the book from the demi-maren's hands, staring down at the dusty leaves and beginning to page through them slowly. A word, 'Intu', caught his eye. 

"They speak of dreambeasts?"

"Only a bit---this's some dreamer's diary here. Shouldn't really be here, actually, should be---mm." He closed his mouth with a snap.

Reala prodded him on. "Should be…?"

In reply, Jackle pressed a gloved finger to his lips, shaking his head. Reala narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by _that?_"

"Don't say it, you mustn't say it---you mustn't ask, you know. Master doesn't like it, no, not at all…"

"What of nightmares are you babbling about?"

"No, don't ask us, boss, isn't right to know!"

"Us?"

"Yes, the voices an' I. Isn't right for us to tell!"

Reala pulled back a step, giving Jackle a strange look. The demi-maren was hunched over slightly, his eyes childishly wide, their depths lit from within by a strange knowing look. He moved his head from side to side slowly. "No, we're not allowed to tell," he whispered. "Aren't we?"

He paused, then answered someone that did not speak. "Yes, that's what I'm trying to tell him, of course! Fool doesn't know---none of them know!"

Reala abruptly leaned forward and slapped him.

Jackle jerked back, one hand flying to his face, his eyes lowering like a kicked puppy. "What was _that_ for?" he whined. "We were bein' good, boss, honest we was!"

_'Great, now he's slipping even deeper!' _Reala reached for him, making the demi-maren pull back in fear. He ignored Jackle's pleading eyes and grabbed his shoulders to give him a rough shake. "Jackle, snap out of it!"

"Outta wh-what?" stammered his companion, eyes wide in fear. "Outta what, master, 're not in anythin', prom'se we wan't, prom'se!"

"Oh, shut up and follow me!" Reala turned away and stormed through the shelves, pausing at the Library door to gesture bad-temperedly. "Well, come on!"

Jackle followed after him, whimpering.

"Can you see them?"

Lunatic slowed and then halted, glancing back from the way they'd come. "No."

"Thank goodness. Still, better not to go to the ground yet---might run into something else unsavory." Corbeau turned to face east once more. "Right, onwards to Nightmare Castle."

"That was certainly unexpected," commented Luna as they started off once more, this time far slower than the desperate flight they'd held earlier. "There were at least seventy of them!"

"I'd say more around forty to fifty," commented Dysdane dryly. "You always exaggerate, Luna."

The sparring instructor gave her a dirty glance, but was too busy contemplating the possible outcomes of their find to bother with verbal sniping. "At least forty, then…ye maren! Why didn't we see them sooner?"

"My question is, how the Ideya did we suddenly acquire forty Equs in the western forests?" put in Corbeau dryly. "You'd think that the Hunters would have noticed an entire herd."

"Perhaps they were only two at one time," inserted Apathy quietly. Luna grimaced.

"Well, I suppose that's feasible…but still. Forty of them, and we haven't seen _one_ until now? You know that's not right, Path. Two golgoths, a HERD of Equs, all in Mystic Forest and beyond---_someone_ would have noticed them before now! Nightmaren wander through there every single day!"

"The caves may be the answer," said Corbeau thoughtfully. "The young ones stay to the more cultivated areas, and we haven't had any of the older ones out beyond the borders for some time…perhaps a few of the dreambeasts have managed to survive this far in the caves, and now some incident we don't yet know about has brought them out again…"

"Maybe." Luna frowned doubtfully. "But if we've managed to suddenly find a herd of Equs, who knows what else out there we haven't purged yet? There could be a colony of Lemrens out there, for all we know!"

"Let's hope not. The last thing I want to see when we get out of this forest is a Lemren wandering through Soft Museum."

Below them, the trees thinned out, signaling the end of Mystic Forest; as a subconscious reaction to Lunatic's last words, they all glanced towards Soft Museum and the hilly forests beyond.

"…is it just myself, or is the sky a bit green?" asked Corbeau.

Reala shoved the demi-maren inside, closing the great stone doors behind them. "Lord Wizeman, forgive me for intruding, but I've found something interesting…"

Jackle bit back another whimper as several hands floated down about them, the eyes in their palms wide and focused. "What is it, Reala?"

"Jackle, it seems, can read several languages other than Dreamin."

The eyes abruptly focused on the trembling demi-maren alone. Jackle winced when Wizeman's voice floated down to them, slow and thoughtful. "Does he…"

"He can read a dreamer's language called Latin," explained Reala, waving the dusty book Jackle had been reading. "He said he could read a few others, as well."

"I see." The hands moved closer, creating a stone wall about the two. "How did you learn to do this, Jackle?"

"P-practice, master," stammered Jackle. "S-several books about it in the Library…"

"I see." The hands, to Jackle's relief, pulled away slightly as their master seemed to think. "Tell me, Jackle---can you read this?"

Jackle stared up, wide-eyed, at the hand that drifted down to hover near him, a book held above its eye; he took it up with trembling hands, licking his dry lips quickly, but then relaxed when he saw the stocky writing inside. "Oh, sure. Old English."

"You can read it?" Had he been looking up at the eyes around him, he would have seen that they were watching his face closely for an answer.

"Of course---Old English is easy! Well, except for when they come up with their own spellings…then you hafta sound it out more than read it." He was already flipping through the worn pages as he spoke, and soon began reading aloud. " 'Most peculiar dreams have I been posied---posied?---no, possessed---with of late. All manner of beets---'scuse me, beasts---and foul demons do purse and cut---how the Ideya do you purse and cut someone?---no, persecute! Persecute me…demons with large eyes and shinning skin---I think he meant shining---or she---whoever this is---laughing hore-if-bly?----laughing horribly, I think---"

"Jackle."

The demi-maren started, nearly dropping the book. "Yes?"

"Listen closely." The hand that had given him the book pulled upright, the eye in its center showing a picture. The place depicted within Jackle knew quite well.

"The forbidden books," he breathed. Reala started as he began sobbing. "No, no, master, I haven't gone in, promise I haven't! I promise, master, I haven't even gone NEAR---"

"I know, Jackle." Wizeman cut him off. "But I want you to go in."

This made the demi-maren pause mid-sob. "_Want_ me to go in, master?"

"Yes. I want you to go in, and begin searching for any information you may find on the problems we have been having lately."

"What problems, master?"

"The appearance of dreambeasts, Jackle."

"Oh yeah, them." Jackle paused, then grinned giddily. "Y'mean I get to go in there again?"

"Yes. Search as long and as hard as is possible."

"Yessir, boss! …can I start now?"

"You are dismissed." One of the hands waved him away. Jackle turned and bounded out happily.

Reala watched him leave, and then turned to confide in his master. "I think he's completely lost it."

One of the great eyes blinked slowly at him. "Really?"

"Yes. He was acting absolutely loony in the Library."

"Perhaps you're right. But he will serve his purpose either way."

The hands pulled away, signaling that the session was ended. Reala bowed once. "Am I dismissed, my lord?"

"You are."

"Thank you, my lord." Turning, Reala left.

It was only once he was out the door and heading for his room that he realized he'd forgotten to give Jackle his Latin book back.

"Oy, Chink, it's us!"

"Chank," replied the green-haired maren quietly as he pulled back to allow the five maren to land on the wall top. His brother, blinking eyes that were cornered by small black curls that denoted him as Chink, stirred from where he was sitting and joined him.

"Sorry," puffed Luna, grasping her side. "Couldn't tell from that distance…"

"That's not what's important right now." Corbeau bowed quickly to the two brothers. "We need to speak to Lord Reala, so if you'll excuse us…"

"Of course." They both stepped out of his way; Chink eyed Dysdane, knowing she was the least emotional of the group and thus the best to ask a tender question. "Was your search---successful?"

"Obviously not!" shouted Luna, storming down the steps. Corbeau flashed the brothers an apologetic smile before coasting down after her, calling conciliatory words. Dysdane returned Chink's gaze coolly.

"If you mean, did we find him, no. If you mean, did we find evidence that he's really gone, yes."

Chink nodded quietly and bowed to her, giving her space to move on. She did so regally, and Lunatic and Apathy followed.

Behind them, the brothers exchanged silent gazes.

Luna pushed open the door to the room she used for sparring training, scanning quickly over the few young maren who were apparently practicing on their own. "Anyone here seen Lord Reala?"

"I've seen him, ma'am."

"Heckler? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just hanging about." He leaped down off of the training manikin he'd been perched on and strode over. "You look tired. Shall I take a message to him for you?"

Luna was too exhausted, emotionally and physically, to even wonder why Heckler was being respectful for once. "I---yes, actually, that would be nice." She swallowed. "Tell him that five of us, Dysdane, Apathy, Lunatic, Corbeau and myself, went out west beyond Mystic Forest to---to look for Morgen. We ran into a herd of at least forty Equs, and were chased back; halfway along we lost them, and continued home to report. Tell him that."

Heckler took a deep breath and bowed quickly, his eyebrows raised in surprise; to his credit he did not stay and ask questions, but hurried off as he'd promised. Luna, with a sigh, sank down against a training manikin. The students rushed over.

"Miss Luna, are you all right?" Aster touched her arm in dismay. Luna managed a smile.

"Yes, Aster, I'm fine…just tired. Very tired." She brushed a hand over her eyes. Aster sat down next to her, and several soft voices posed questions.

"Are they right, Miss Luna?"

"Are the rumors right?

"Is it true, Miss Luna?"

Luna sighed. "Is what true?"

"The rumors about---" Aster choked. "About Morgen. Is he really gone?"

Luna closed her eyes, feeling pain well up in her chest. "Yes, Aster. I'm afraid he is."

The girl's open eye unexpectedly spilled over with tears, the beads of water dripping down her face and beginning to trickle down her chin. She drew her legs up to her chest and huddled over them. "That's not…fair…" she sniffed.

Luna stared straight ahead. "I know it isn't."

"But why him?"

"Because he was a _fool_."

"A fool? He died because he was a fool?"

Luna softened, her anger fading away as she realized how harsh her words must have sounded to the younger nightmaren around her. "No, Aster. He died because he wanted to help someone."

Aster's own voice suddenly turned bitter. "How's that any better? He's still dead! He didn't get anywhere! He's just dead! How's that any better?"

"…I don't know."

"It _isn't_!" She slammed her fist against the ground. "It isn't any better and it isn't fair! Nothing is!" She brushed angrily at the bandage covering her eye. "It's all wrong!"

"Hush, Aster."

"No! It's all wrong and I WON'T hush! It's all so wrong and NOBODY should have died, but Ernest and Morgen are dead and we nearly were and---"

She stopped as Luna pulled her close and began smoothing out her hair. "Hush, Aster. Just relax. You won't help anyone by yelling."

"You need to get it out somehow," muttered Starshine, another female student.

"Hush, just cry." Luna ignored Starshine's input and continued soothing Aster, beginning to rock gently back and forth. The half-blind girl began sobbing helplessly.

"It's just so stupid," she whimpered into Luna's neck. "It's all so _stupid_…what's the point if we can't even do anything about it but run?…"

"I don't know, but we won't be running any more." She brushed away a tangled strand of Aster's hair. "We'll fight back. We did it before, and we can do it again."

"Not if everything keeps on getting weird," muttered Aster.

"Come on, now. Remember Morgen's favorite saying? There's always pain, but there's always hope, too."

"Yeah, he lived by that, didn't he?" Aster glared up at her teacher. "Well, he's DEAD now!"

Luna swallowed, then lowered her voice. "Yes…and he was perfectly happy until it happened. Meanwhile you're refusing to hope, and you're miserable. What do you make out of that?"

Aster paused for a moment, silently playing with her hands. Finally she looked back up at her teacher. "That it's always better to hope, even---even when you're gonna die anyway?"

"Something like that, yes." She smiled and hugged her student gently. "Something like that."

"Mm-hm." Aster closed her good eye, and more tears began gathering at its rim. "But it still hurts even if you do hope."

"He didn't say there wouldn't be pain," whispered Luna. "It's all right to grieve, Aster."

"I know…that's what I'm doing." She buried her head in the instructor's lap again.

Luna moaned softly and bowed over the sobbing girl cradled next to her, still brushing her hair; her own tears were beginning to leave her eyes and drip down her face. Around them, the other students stood or sat silently, several of them crying. No one spoke.

Together, teacher and students mourned.


	9. Dreams And Diaries

AN: Knowing how you two hate shortitude---*waves to Nix and Fang*---and guessing that you'd probably prefer length as well---*waves to her only other reader, Molly*---I combined two chapters into one for this entry. Hope you three enjoy it!

*pauses; counts on fingers* One two thr---yeah, we got three. *pumps fist*

Disclaimer: You can't have my candy cane.

It may be then we are deceived in this.

It may be this is other than we think

And in our sleep…or secretly…or by

The sudden blade of pain…

It may well be

This thing is evil and these seeming soft

Familiar gestures, these half signs, this shy

Withheld warm look the earth has after day,

This green, this ever blue, these stars---these stars---

Are false and to deceive us. It may be

The Hamlet Of A. Macleish, by Archibald Macleish

__

Chapter Nine:

Dreams And Diaries

The night was a quiet one. The skies were clean and dim---apart from the strange green lights that dappled the north-western stretch of sky---and the woods were quiet to the west. Eastward, Spring Valley and the plains beyond were coated in a darkening shade of dusk; the ocean beyond Splash Garden was calm and unstirred. All seemed at rest. 

It was a restless night for leaders, however. Very few of them got any sleep.

NiGHTS lolled onto his back, staring up at the rounded blue ceiling of his prison. Four days. He'd survived sitting here for four days.

He was sure he was going to go insane by the end of the month.

The Nightopians helped, he had to admit. Rolling his head to the side, he could just barely make out their round forms where they sat, huddled against a tree trunk or hiding in the shadow of a boulder, a few nestled in the nooks of wide branches. They were surprisingly faithful, wandering off for a few hours to play, perhaps, but always returning to the Ideya Palace to 'check up' on him; assuming he was interested, they regaled him with stories of their various adventures, telling about run-ins with Minions or new ways they'd found to play. Often these new types of playing were ones they'd discovered the day before, and they day before that as well, but then Nightopians had very short memories, and he certainly wasn't going to ruin their fun.

Nip and Tuck had taken on the responsibility of making sure he had someone to talk to almost constantly, and he found himself beginning to unburden to them. Nip had a bit of trouble taking it all in, but was a constant source of comforting words and encouragement; Tuck understood the darker side of the nightmaren better, and was able to sympathize more readily. Together, they managed to help bring him out of his shell and begin to examine the contents under the glass case more closely. NiGHTS found himself pondering when he would take it away and truly feel what had happened again.

He blinked as a shadowy form began to emerge from the shades of the trees about; propping himself up on one elbow, he focused on it.

He inhaled sharply as the form became more clear, stepping out into the clearing about the Ideya Palace with silent paws. Its form was dull and rough, absorbing the rays of moonlight that shone down upon it without reflecting them back. A white beam glimmered from the only bright part on its body; its eyes. Their green depths slowly focused on NiGHTS.

A golem.

NiGHTS straightened and moved as close as he could to the edge of the platform, knowing that the shield would protect him and thusly not afraid for himself. For a moment, nightmaren stared at dreambeast, and neither of them moved.

A ragged swath of fur hung from its lip, a testament that it had feasted recently. The fur was gory and stained badly with blood, but a small flash of white showed that it had once belonged to a Snip; the creature had been in Frozen Bell.

The great unblinking emeralds of its eyes finally released him from their gaze, and the creature dragged itself on, massive stone forepaws planting heavily in the dirt and waiting for the hind ones to heave themselves after. NiGHTS followed the lion-like creature with his eyes as it disappeared slowly into the shades of night once more.

Once it was gone, he sat down. A golgoth and a golem? 

Reala was brooding silently in his room when Heckler found him. 

The general was sitting next to the only window, his arms folded, his eyes gazing out across the darkening landscape; they were focused on Spring Valley. Beside him, on a small, black iron table, sat a dusty book. Heckler's knock startled him out of whatever reverie he'd fallen into.

"Enter."

Heckler did as he was bid and bowed gracefully, licking his tongue along dry lips once. "My lord, Miss Luna and several other teachers have returned from a search for Lord Morgen."

An ice-blue eye slid to meet his own; the general did not turn to face him, only allowing his profile to be seen. "Who did she take, and what is their report?"

Heckler licked his lips again, silently marveling at Reala's seeming ability to predict what he was going to tell before he told it. "Dysdane, Apathy, Corbeau, and Lunatic, my lord." He cleared his throat. "They went out westward, over beyond Mystic Forest. Miss Luna said that some way out, they ran into a herd of Equs."

There was silence. The lone eye Heckler could see focused on the wall, and then slowly closed; Reala did not speak. Heckler shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"What did they do?" Reala's voice was soft and low.

"Retreated, my lord. They were chased, but about halfway along they lost them. They returned back to the castle, and are now resting."

Reala did not open his eyes. "What else?"

"Nothing that I was told, my lord."

"A herd of Equs," murmured Reala, more to himself than the boy standing next to him. "An entire herd… Very well. You are dismissed."

"Thank you, my lord." Heckler bowed and turned to leave.

"Boy."

"Yes, my lord?"

"What is your name?"

Heckler turned to face him again. The general's eye was open, but gazing at the wall once more. "Heckler."

"What division are you in?"

"Archery, my lord."

"Archery," mused Reala. "Do you enjoy it?"

" 'Do I enjoy it', my lord? Not, 'Am I good in it'?"

The blue eye slid to meet his again, and slowly Reala cocked his head to face him, smiling in recognition of his sharp observation. "Well said. But do you?"

"Honestly…no, my lord. I prefer hand-to-hand fighting or swordsmanship."

"What were you originally in?"

"Hand to hand, my lord. I was trained with a sword and lance, as well."

"I see." Reala turned to face the window once more; when he spoke, his voice has become soft. "Are you confident in your abilities?"

"In archery?"

"No---in your abilities as a whole."

"Yes, my lord."

Reala did not say anything more. Heckler shifted slightly. "Am I being inspected for something, my lord?"

"What?" Reala seemed genuinely put off-balance by the question. "No, not at all."

"Ah." Heckler nodded and looked away; slowly his eyes appraised the slouching form of the general looking out the window. "Is this---truly an examination of _me_, my lord?"

Slowly, Reala turned to face him, eyes narrowing and then widening again; finally he swallowed and gave the boy a small smile. "You are very perceptive, Heckler."

"Thank you, my lord. Some call it a curse."

"Perhaps it is." Reala turned away once more. "You are dismissed, Heckler."

"Yes, my lord." He bowed low and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Alone again, Reala resumed gazing out the window. His eyes were inexplicably drawn to the shadowed dips and hills of Spring Valley.

"Very perceptive," he whispered to the night air.

That night, Clawz had a dream.

It did not concern him, mostly. In fact, it seemed to be more like watching a memory than anything else; everything was blurred and hard for him to make out. He seemed to be in a hall of some sort…

A light shone out near the end of the hall, and by squinting he was able to decide it was a flame. Slowly it resolved itself into the end of a candle; the figure holding it he knew well. Jackle.

The demi-maren was different than when he'd seen him last. His face was still visible, but it was paler than he remembered. Thin lines were traced faintly along his face, as if he had gone for a very long time without sleep or nutrition; his hair was even messier than usual, and several gold strands fell in his eyes, which were large and empty. They lacked their usual luster.

He held the candle higher, and gave a soft wave of his hand as if asking the catmaren to follow; silently he turned away and began padding down the hall. Clawz followed, some small part of his mind noting that something, a thing entirely apart from his haggard appearance, seemed wrong…

The being ahead of him, if it was truly Jackle, came to a door that was cracked open a slit and opened it fully; there was no noise. Clawz followed through silently, and found himself in the Library.

The fire in the middle of the room had burned unusually low; its embers glowed dimly, casting a strangely large amount of light. The demi-maren did not stop but continued on further into the shelves, weaving his silent way through the maze of books to the left wall; as he reached it, he held his candle to the side and opened a small wooden door that was placed there. Clawz's eyes widened as he realized where the demi-maren was going.

He followed, albeit slightly hesitantly. Inside the forbidden room, Jackle held his candle high; its unwavering light fell on rows and rows of bookshelves, dusty and unused, their bindings falling apart and their backings sometimes gone. Jackle moved slowly through the shelves, his footsteps measured and slow. He seemed to know his way about very well.

Clawz followed at his heels, pausing when the demi-maren stopped before a bookshelf and began searching for a book. Soon he'd found what he was looking for.

He turned to face the catmaren, one hand holding the candle up for light, the other pointing like a guidepost to a book on the shelf. Clawz moved closer hesitantly, and obediently looked at it.

It was a large, red-leather bound book with delicate gold tracing along its binding. 

He gazed at it closely, noting where it stood on the shelf; then looked questioningly at his friend. Jackle did not move. His hand pointed unwaveringly at the book. The candle in his hand lit his face from below with a strange, other-worldly light, heightening the thinness of his cheeks and the glossy, un-twinkling emerald spheres of his eyes. Lips tightly shut, he gazed back at Clawz in silence and pointed.

It was then that the catmaren awoke.

With a start Clawz jerked his head up, staring around his room. Moonlight shone faintly through the windows, giving the room a dim, half-real sense, but it was certainly his room; no silent demi-maren with candles lurked in its corners. He settled back down into the soft cushion he slept on and stared at the wall. _'What the Ideya was that?'_

It wasn't a memory---he'd never gone into the forbidden room. It wasn't something that had just happened, either; Jackle didn't look like that any more. So what was it?

__

'Maybe it was a dream…'

Jackle's words came back to him. _"At first it was just in dreams---I shouldn't have dreams, I know, but I have them all the time…Clawz, I think I'm going insane."_

He sucked in a breath. _'Nightmares, am I going insane too?'_

Nightmaren stirred but did not wake as Clawz passed by the older maren's rooms on the third level. His claws retracted to keep noise to a minimum, he padded down the hall with the noiseless walk of a cat; only one person actually heard him pass and came to their door. Tessa, peering out of the room she shared with her brother, was just in time to see the catmaren's long striped tail disappear into the shadows along the corridor. She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. _'I wonder what he's up to.'_

The Library door was open just a slit, and it made no noise when Clawz pushed it wide. The fire kept burning the in fireplace near the middle of the room was low and dim, which was odd; the fire tenders would have fed it well for the night. That didn't seem to matter, however, as there was enough light anyway. Enough light for him to see a figure disappearing behind the bookshelves, heading for the left.

He felt the fur on the back of his neck prick up slightly as he followed. Rounding the corner, he again saw just a snatch of a shadowy form before it was behind another shelf, and he followed it persistently, trying to swallow down the eerily feeling of moving in an unreality. He had to gather himself before he came around the next corner, knowing that it was impossible for him to see the silent demi-maren, hair hanging about his eyes in ragged golden strands, standing before the door with his unwavering candle held high. Impossible.

"Why are you following me?" snapped Reala, wheeling on his heel to face Clawz. A book was in his hand.

For a moment the catmaren was unsure whether to feel surprised, relieved, or afraid. He let out a trembling breath. "I---Jackle---"

"How did you know?"

Again Clawz was taken aback. Reala was gazing at him suspiciously. The catmaren swallowed, coughing. "Well, I had a dream…"

"A dream?"

"…never mind," said Clawz, knowing he would never be believed.

"You too?"

"Oh no," he muttered. "Not you too."

"That's the third---"

"Third?! Who else here is having dreams?"

"It---that's none of your business."

"Three of us? What the heck's that about? I thought just Jackle---"

"Jackle had one too?"

"What, you mean you were talking about _two _other people?!"

There was a pause. Finally Clawz sighed, running a clawed paw through the fur between his ears. "Something's obviously weird around here, but I guess no one knows anything about it so it's no use yelling over it. What are you here for?"

"I have some business to attend to."

"Eh." Clawz's eyes slid to the door in the wall. "It wouldn't happen to be with---him?" He said the last word in a half-whisper, jerking his head towards the forbidden ground to show who he was talking about. Reala's eyes widened slightly.

"How did you know about him?"

"Like I said, I had a dream."

"…odd." Reala turned away and opened the door, his mind working furiously. He had enough troubles already---now he had to deal with rogue dreams, too? And psychic ones, apparently…

The catmaren followed him silently, figuring he might as well see what was going on until he was told to leave. Together they entered the forbidden library.

It was more like entering a cave than a library. The shelves stretched up into shadows beyond their sight, the darkness above claiming the ceiling for its own and refusing to allow those on the ground to see where it ended. A huge candle was placed on top of the largest desk either of the maren had ever seen, and its single unwavering flame provided enough light to move about in, but its light could not pierce the shadows that covered the further shelves and the ceiling above; any stray beams of light that reached further up felt that they were unwanted, and left quickly. 

Slumped against one of the shelves was a small, odd-looking bundle; in the dim light it looked rather like a coat hung over a small rack. Reala approached it quietly and addressed it by name. "Jackle."

The bundle started with a gasp, and jerked up its head to stare at them with wild eyes for a moment before sinking against the shelf again. "Reala," the demi-maren wheezed. "By the IDEYA---"

"It's not my fault you can't notice someone in front of your face," snarled Reala. Jackle gave him a dismissive wave of his hand, his dusky green eyes already passing over the general's shoulder. 

"What're you doin' here, Clawz?"  
"I---" He paused and coughed as the two maren looked at him expectantly before deciding that making something up would not be the best idea. "I just had this weird feeling that you were here, for some reason."

Jackle quirked an eyebrow, the effect on his half-visible face looking more like an odd grimace. "Oohhh, sure that explains _everythin'_. Pleased to see you too. Whad'ja need, Reala?"

The general held out the old book he'd been carrying. "You left your Latin book behind."

"Oohhh, _that!_" He took up the book quickly, and caressed its leaves like he'd missed it badly. "Oohh, forgot all about this! Sorry…" He trailed off and traced the book's cover with loving fingers. Reala found himself wondering whether the demi-maren was apologizing the him or it.

"Thanks a bunch," Jackle added as he began flipping through the pages more slowly, eyes already being drawn to the writing inside. "I woulda…missed it…" His mouth began moving, no sound escaping his lips as he began deciphering the language.

Reala shifted his weight, a bit annoyed at the fact that the demi-maren was so easily distracted from him by a book. Clawz, however, was interested, and peered over the demi-maren's shoulder. "What's it say?"

"Oh, it's some old dreamer's account," explained Jackle airily. "Latin, y'know. Uctus---"

"And orus and ono," finished Reala dryly. "Yes, I know."

"That's the trick!" Jackle's eyes gleamed eagerly. "Only you're emphasizing it wrong. Y'see it's---"

"What's this about an Intu?" Clawz's eyes had latched on to the one word he recognized.

"Oh, the guy saw some maren fightin' with an Intu and heard the word. Here, lissen." He spread the pages flat, beginning to read out loud. As he read, his hyperactive voice calmed and dropped softer; not leaving its high tenor, but smoothing out the harsher edges of words. His breathing became more calm. "As I wandered through the forest, I chanced on a small clearing. Within I saw a strange sight; a human, with no flesh that I could see where a neck should be, trying to keep away a small, dog-like creature. The small creature was covered in a large, solid block of shell, which a spear point could not pierce; the human held a spear in its hand, and tried valiantly to keep the creature away. At one point, it shouted a word that sounded much like 'intu'. After some time, it managed to knock the creature into unconsciousness with a swift blow to the head, and left the clearing. The creature itself did not arise before I awoke, the morning sun streaming in my eyes."

He shifted his grip on the book's spine, and began flipping through the pages. "As far as I can tell, this actually belonged to several people," he explained. "The writing's too different to belong to one person alone. I---"

He halted as the last pages of the book were ruffled through. Nestled between them and the book's worn backing, a small, tidy sheaf of papers had been placed.

He pulled them out carefully, clicking his tongue over them. "Mm, looks like someone else was interested in this book…"

Reala leaned closer, interested. "How long have they been there?"

Jackle cast an experienced eye over the brown and brittle pages. "…some time."

"Yes, thank you," muttered Reala. "I knew that. What are they?"

"Look like notes." The demi-maren handed the book off to Clawz and began paging through the thin leaves. "A maren, I think, judging by the hand."

"But they're not in Dreamin!" pointed out Clawz.

"Nope, it's Latin. Apparently the guy knew the language and wanted to comment on the book in the same, y'know?"

"But what other nightmaren knows Latin?"

The demi-maren had flipped to the last page, and read off the signature at the bottom. "Emirgast, recorder."

"Emirgast." Reala spoke the name thoughtfully. "I don't recall a maren by that name."

"You wouldn't---I didn't until I started reading this stuff. He was around before our time apparently---"

"So he was one of the first."

"Yeah."

"That tells us something about the age of this book."

"Uh-huh."

"You know anything about him?"

"Oh, sure. He was a recorder back in the day---very good one, y'know. He's left notes like this all over the library; never marked up his books, but put neat sheaves of notes in 'em for future readers. Quite smart guy. This looks interesting, in fact---doesn't seem to be related to the book itself, but just general observations and notes…those are the best kind…" He trailed off as he became sucked into the writing in his hands once more, and his eyes widened suddenly.

Reala snorted in irritation. "Look, we need sleep. Goodnight, and I hope you find something."

"Think I just have," said Jackle. 

Apathy's soft, nondescript voice was barely audible in the thick-aired Blacksmithy. "You're still working?"

Amaranth, his muscular back turned to the white-skinned maren standing in the doorway, did not look up from the bench he was straddling. "Yeah."

"It's far into the night," said Apathy, moving silently to the blacksmith's side. He looked carefully over Amaranth's shoulder. Swaths of leather---black, brown, hickory and pale cream---were scattered about the bench, and several swords with unfinished pommels were lined up in a neat row near the end. Amaranth worked silently, practiced hands binding the leather grips firmly and quickly. Apathy tried again. "This can wait until the morning, can it not?"

"No," gritted Amaranth.

"Why?"

"Because…" 

The master blacksmith looked away, and his hoarse voice suddenly broke. "Because I promised them to him several days ago, and then never got them done…"

Apathy understood. Without a word, he straddled the other end of the bench, and began binding up a sword. 

__

You need to speak to Wizeman.

'Where have you been?'

You never called us.

'But you were in my head before, when---'

You need to speak to Wizeman.

'But you were all yelling and chanting and---'

You need to speak to Wizeman.

'I know but why were---'

It's a pretty flower that grows no root---it's a pretty mother that nurtures a brute. It's a pretty glint that glows from a knife, it's a pretty sword that takes a life…

'Mm…that's pretty…'

You need to speak to Wizeman, aye?

'But what---about---'

For the prettiest is always a strike to the heart…it's the prettiest that allows the questions to start…

'Pretty…'

Speak to Wizeman, speak to him, yes! Speak to master about the book…

'I need to speak to Wizeman?'

Yeeeeeees. Speak to him, pretty so know!

'I need to speak to Wizeman.'

Yes. Very good, Jackle.

Jackle was slumped against the shelves again, reading silently. Reala and Clawz, afraid to look about in a place they had not been permitted access to, stood uncomfortably several paces away. Finally Jackle slapped the pages together with a crackle of aged parchment.

"Very interesting," was all he would say.

Reala raised an eyebrow, asking him to go on. "And?…"

"And I think I'd better go speak to Wizeman. Like, now."

Reala and Clawz exchanged glances; then the general nodded. "All right. I had to report to him anyway…come on."

Clawz turned to leave. "I think I'll go and get some sleep."

"You do that." Reala waited until the catmaren had left before he turned to Jackle. "What did it say?"

"I need to speak to Wizeman," repeated Jackle. His eyes, Reala noticed, looked a bit darker than he remembered; they seemed slightly unfocused. He decided it was the low light in the room.

"Why are you so---"

"Pretty's the flower that grows on the heath," murmured Jackle, in a sing-song tone. "It's the prettiest flower that brings us to grief…"

Reala swallowed, turning away. Jackle's voice carried an odd intonation, almost as if he were more than one person. "Come, then. We'll speak to him now."

"So pretty!" laughed Jackle, following willingly. He left the papers on the floor.

As Reala turned and closed the door to the forbidden library, he noted that Jackle's eyes still looked a bit too dark.

As the two leaders left the library, a small shadow detached itself from the overhanging darkness and stared after them.

"I wonder what they were doing," murmured Vespers.

She looked back towards the forbidden door longingly; the librarian within her had often fantasized about what could be behind it. The threat of punishment had always held strong until now---but the leaders had gone in and survived.

Biting her lip in nervousness, she tiptoed towards the forbidden ground, her eyes darting about in fear of being found, even though she knew that the chances of anyone entering in the middle of the night were immeasurably slim. She crept close to the door and stared at it for a moment; somewhere in her chest, she became aware of a strange hesitation to enter, as if someone was telling her to stay out. But they said there were millions of books in there…

Straightening, she pushed open the door.

The room was immensely huge and dark, and she trembled with excitement and fear as she stared at the vast treasure-house of books that spread about her. 

"Dear Ideya," she murmured, amazement swirling through her. "It's…huge…"

A hand placed itself on her shoulder. She whirled with a startled gasp, eyes wide.

No one was there.

Vespers turned a quick circle, hand to her heart. No one. She circled again, searching the shadows, feeling her heart begin to pound quicker as she tried to find whoever had touched her; it had been too real to just be her imagination. She pressed a hand on her shoulder, nearly starting at how closely it resembled the feeling she'd just had.

She swallowed hard, her heart beating to a strange rhythm. She felt suddenly as if she were intruding in a room that was full of strange and hostile people.

A small nudge to her arm made her whirl about, again finding no one; with a small sob she turned and ran, dashing blindly through the shelves. Something caught at her shoulder but she did not turn.

She skidded to a halt, feeling as if something had suddenly hit her in the face; she sniffled and stared down the row she'd come to a halt in. A bit further along, its red leather binding glimmering attractively with gold leaf, a book was tilted halfway out of the shelf as if it had been replaced too quickly by someone who was in a hurry. She stared at it, an inexplicable feeling of mixed attraction and repulsion growing in her.

Another shove to her shoulder made her stumble forward, and she glanced back, already knowing that she would see no one. She gasped as another shove sent her nearly sprawling---right above the book.

She reached out hesitantly, feeling some great repulsive matter trying to hold back her hand; a finger pushed her nearer. She whispered her thoughts to the air. "I don't know who you all are and what you want, but I'm…trying to please some of you…please don't involve me in your argument…"

At the end of the row, a glimmer of light caught her attention. She looked up, just in time to see the frail, ghostly edge of a diamond-edged cape disappear around the turn.

Something told her to go see, go follow it, go see what it was---Vespers, acting on what the other feelings in her heart told her to do, grasped the book desperately and then dashed for the corner.

When she rounded it, no one was there.

Clutching the book to her chest, she headed for the door. As she ran, she could feel something telling her to put the book down, to turn around and put it back, to drop it; she refused. 

Above her, the great unwavering candle on the desk went out without a sound.

She stumbled into a shelf in the darkness, suddenly panicking. How could she find her way out without any light? She stood unsteadily, still holding the book tightly, resolved no matter what happened to get out with it; she gasped as someone shoved her.

A shove---yes. She went in the way it had directed, stopping when she touched a shelf; another shove told her to go right, and so she did. Soon she lost all sense of direction, but the nothing behind her knew where they were going. Soon she felt the air around her grow clearer as they came into the open space, and one last gentle touch guided her to the door.

She pushed it open and found herself in the Library, her home turf. She slammed the door behind her and ran for her room, giggling giddily to herself in a near-hysteric euphoria. Her roommates did not awaken as she entered the room and slipped into her bedcovers, still giggling to herself; she felt independent, strong, as if she'd walked on the edge of danger and laughed while she did it. She also felt more scared than she'd ever been in her life.

She fell asleep soon after, the book held to her protectively.

Wizeman did not sleep. He rested to relax his mind, he absorbed energy to re-strengthen himself, but he did not technically sleep. He did, however, expect to be left alone for the night, and so the knock on his door was both surprising and annoying.

"Who is it?"

"Reala and Jackle, my lord."

"Enter."

His dull eyes brightened slightly as they turned sleepily to face the two high-ranking maren. "I assume you have a good reason for disturbing me at this hour?"

"Very good, my lord," Reala assured him. "We have news…and something of interest," he added, glancing at Jackle.

Two great, glassy eyes focused on the trembling demi-maren, their unblinking gaze set firmly upon him. "Tell."

"Miss Luna, the sparring instructor, took several other older maren out to search for Morgen from the Armory," began Reala. "They returned recently. Luna claims that, upon passing into the western woods beyond Mystic Forest, they came upon a herd of Equs and were chased halfway back. No one was injured."

The hands surrounding them held still, their eyes drifting away in thought. "What else occurred?"  
"Nothing of notice, my lord. They decided to return, and are now resting."

The eyes were not looking at them. Reala began to have the feeling that they were being ignored, and cleared his throat. A pair focused on him once more. "You have more to say?"

"Jackle claims to have found something worthy of your notice," explained Reala, and stepped aside, giving the demi-maren a look as he did. _'If this isn't worth it, it's your fault.'_

Jackle understood his hidden meaning, but did not seem at all perturbed. He looked up at his master unfearingly; as Wizeman gazing into his eyes, he saw that the demi-maren's trembling hands were more likely moving from excitement, not fear. He took note of the fact that Jackle's eyes seemed a bit dark as he spoke. "What is it, Jackle?"  
"I found some notes stuffed in an old Latin book," began Jackle, lacing his fingers excitedly like a young child reciting something before their teacher. He shifted onto his toes. "All old and from a recorder I don't remember personally, but he's got a lot of notes stuck around the library---explanations and helpers and stuff---"

"And he said something of value?" prodded Wizeman.

"Yeah, oh boy yeah!" Jackle's darkened eyes gleamed brightly. "Someone named Mira---"

"His name was Emirgast, then?"

"Yeah, him!" Jackle laughed happily. "You know 'im?"

"Perhaps." The eyes focused on him closed for a moment, their owner's mind flashing back to the diary that had revealed the sporadic appearance of the Courage Ideya to him. "Yes. What did he say?"

"Well, he was talking about the Courage Ideya again, an' he said that if they were taken away from the dreamers, then they'd lose their power. Poof. Gone."

There was a moment of quiet as the other two in the room digested this. "That doesn't make sense," murmured Reala after a moment. "He was mistaken. We took away both, and their power level never changed."

"Yeah, but y'see that it takes time!" Jackle explained excitedly, as if he was having the time of his life. "They fade slowly, kinda wear down after time, an' then y'can't use 'em anymore. And guess what else I learned!"

"What?" asked Reala, feeling vaguely as if he were a father listening to a child recount his adventures of the day in kindergarten.

"The Dream World is full of energy, right? And that energy makes us and everything and it's always there, right?"

"Right."

"Well, when the Red Ideya are around, things waver just a bit, because the Dream World's prepared for 'em but it's still a lot of extra energy!"

"And this affects us how?"

"Don't you see? If it loses a whole whopping bunch of energy all at once, it'll get all unstable! And time and energy and past and stuff'll get all wacked out!" He jumped up and down on his toes. "Don'cha _get_ it? That's why everything's going to pot! 'Cause NiGHTS shoved the Ideya through to the Waking World!"

He spun on his heel, arms flung wide. "And so now everythin's all wacky and mushed," he giggled. "Whee!"

Reala and Wizeman were silent, absorbing what the demi-maren had just told them. A single hand, its eye wide and clear, floated down to stare directly in Jackle's face. "What else?"

"Nuthin' else," said Jackle.

"He said nothing?"

"Yeah." The demi-maren seemed disappointed.

"So this is all NiGHTS fault," growled Reala. "If he hadn't done…that…things would not be so unstable now."

"Not really," corrected Jackle. "He wasn't the one who told 'im to take 'em!"

Reala's eyes widened at the demi-maren, who made a small sound---which came out rather like 'eep'---and clapped both hands over his mouth as he realized how badly he'd just blasphemed his master's name. He looked up at Wizeman fearfully; luckily for his soundness of body, the ruler had been too deep in thought to pay attention to his chatter and hadn't heard.

"This is…most important," Wizeman said at last. "Did Emirgast reveal how long it would take for the Dream World to stabilize itself again?"

"No, but he seemed to think it'd take a long time."

"How long?" asked Wizeman and Reala, together.

"Oh, at least another century," said Jackle.


	10. A Fraying Garland

AN: Sorry this took so long to get up…anyway. If you think RagDoll sounds a bit theological later on, well, I'm not going to apologize for it, because she's like that. I will apologize for any mistakes in grammar or spelling, as usual…

*waves to Nix and Fang* I know you at least will read this, guys---so enjoy!

Disclaimer: "And there was a land called Middle-Height, and it was terrorized by roving bands of sporks…"---AC

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Around, around the sun we go:

The moon goes round the earth.

We do not die of death:

We die of vertigo.

Mother Goose's Garland, by Archibald Macleish

Chapter Ten:

A Fraying Garland

All was quiet as the demi-maren entered his room, the first touches of dawn tingeing everything with faint pastel. The vivid patterns on his ceiling were toned down and quieted by the touch of morning, and sharp edges were softened by dim, dusky shadows. The air was calm and peaceful.

AC cawed angrily and swooped to attack.

"What's with you?" cried Jackle, as the crow shot up from his first screaming flurry and began a series of short dives at his face. "What the Ideya's wrong?"

AC landed on the bedpost and hopped about to face him, still cawing angrily. Jackle planted his hands on his hips. "What? Did I say something wrong? Are you hungry? Is someone else here? What?"

AC hopped up and down in a raging frenzy. Jackle tried again. "Were you worried about me?"

The crow nodded so hard that for a moment Jackle was afraid he might fall off the bedpost. "Oh, if that's all…"

AC gave a caw which sounded suspiciously like WHAT?! and swooped onto the demi-maren's shoulder, where he proceeded to give him a loud piece of his mind. Jackle tried to get around the crow's bobbing head and scratch his neck. "Whoa, whoa, calm down there! I just meant that I was afraid something was wrong with you…"

AC gradually grew quieter, reluctantly giving up to the scratching. Jackle began the expected apology. "Reala found out that I could read different languages, and so he brought me to Wizeman, who told me to go and read myself blind in the back room…which was great, of course. Anyway, I found some notes by Emirgast---remember him? Of course you do---and he said that the Red Ideya can make the Dream World act screwy sometimes…he also said that if the Ideya get snuffed out, then the Dream World'll get seriously unbalanced. My guess is that's what's happening right now."

AC listened silently, deigning to turn his head so Jackle could scratch below his ear. "So, do you forgive me? It wasn't my fault…"

The childish whimper that punctuated the end of this sentence was enough to make AC rub his head against Jackle's cheek. All crimes were forgiven.

Jackle smiled in contentment. "Well, now that we've got that settled, I think I need to rest. It's been a long night…" He yawned and helped AC onto the bedpost again before dropping on the bed, not even bothering to remove his cloak as he burrowed under the covers. "Wake me up at the turn of the millennium," he called out from under them, voice muffled.

AC contentedly began preening himself, smoothing out the feathers that had become ruffled from a night of pacing and worry. On the bed beneath him, a moving bundle under the covers eventually stopped rolling about trying to get comfortable, and slowly began rising and falling in steady, even breath. All was well.

Outside the window, the sun rose.

"Mornin', Vespers."

The girl whirled, clutching a leather-bound book to her chest. Tessa stopped, her constant little smile never faltering. "My, we're uptight this morning, aren't we?"

"I didn't know it was you," gasped Vespers. Her blue eyes were wide.

Tessa smiled, then looked at her more closely. "You're feeling all right, aren't you?"  
"Oh sure Miss Tessa I'm feeling just fine."

"Calm down, don't spit things out so fast. What's wrong?"

"Nothing Miss Tessa I'm perfectly---"

"You're still speaking fast," Tessa reminded her.

"I'm sorry," said Vespers, making a conscious effort to slow down her words. "I'm fine."

"You're quite uptight. What's that?"

"This? Oh nothing at all it's just an old---"

"Vespers."

"Sorry."

"Why of nightmares are you so worked up over that book?"  
"I…" She looked down at the book cradled in her arms, and gave up. "Um…can we talk about this in your room?"  
"All right." She jerked her head towards the corridor as she re-entered her room, a gesture directed to her brother. "I'm having a chat with Vespers, Terrance. Get yourself down to breakfast."

"Awww…" whined Terrance, although he was already heading for the door. "Why can't I stay? It's my room too, you know."

"She needs to speak to me alone," Tessa whispered in his ear as she pushed him out. He nodded and tipped Vespers a wink before going down the hall. Tessa sighed as she closed the door, and then sat on her bed, patting the space next to her. "Come, tell me about it."

Vespers did. She explained all about last night; how she had been doing some late research, and had entered the forbidden ground after seeing the leaders do so; how she had felt another presence in the air; about finding the book and feeling as if something did---and did not---want her to find it.

"So now I've got this book, and I'm afraid to let it go," she finished, looking up as she did to see if Tessa believed her. Apparently, the archery teacher did.

"What's in the book?" was her only comment.

"I don't know," admitted Vespers. Tessa eyed her. "Well I haven't had the chance to check it out!"

"So let's check it out."

The girl opened the book with trembling fingers, and together they began to read.

Wizeman was thinking.

Surrounded by darkness and silence, floating in a spaceless void, he could focus entirely and without interruption on his inner thoughts. It was a good thing he had the isolation; he needed to be able to concentrate.

Things were falling apart more rapidly than he would ever have predicted they could. According to Jackle, the Dream World would be unstable for as long as another century---which meant one hundred years of warping energy. His powers could lose their strength if things were unbalanced enough.

The nightmaren were rebellious and questioning. They no longer believed in their leaders; the failure of the Mission and NiGHTS' subsequent punishment had shaken their faith to its roots. He had the makings of a full-fledged rebellion on his hands. There were an endless amount of maren under him who could turn into another NiGHTS.

The High Seekers were failing in their appointed areas. Reala was uncertain of himself, Jackle was becoming childish, Puffy disliked fighting, Gulpo was limited to water, Clawz was unable to stand in his authority on his own, and Gillwing was incredibly stupid. None of them were leaders.

In other words, everything was going to pot.

Oh, but it wouldn't any longer. He wouldn't let it. He had a plan, a great and glorious plan; a plan that would fix everything. He'd get back all of the power and respect he'd lost, and his rulership would be unquestioned, if over a smaller amount of territory. It was perfect.

He caressed the glowing orb of energy gently, his fingers playing over its surface like the hands of a pianist touching the keys before playing. It was a wonderful piece of work, his orb. That was how he referred to it: His Orb. It was the work of ages, gathered, polished, molded, melded; and oh, but it was worth it. Now, in his time of need, his orb would not fail him.

_'The barrier first,' _he mused, hands cupping the orb. _'The most important. Afterwards, I will work on the High Seekers…'_

His orb glowed in reply, and he stroked it lovingly. Perfect.

Strix found his sister out in the courtyard, shooting arrows. A target was set up by the wall, and she was standing at the opposite end of the clearing, bow held steady, sighting down the narrow shaft with dark eyes. He came up behind her and waited.

After a moment, when the aim was to her satisfaction, she let the arrow go. It flew straight, and the target was pierced in the exact middle. As she had intended.

She spoke as she drew another arrow from the quiver bound to her back. "How are you?"

"Fine." He watched as she sighted again, lining up her shot with even, deadly caution; her mood was dark. Were she feeling different, her shots would have been quick and light. "How are you?"

"Fine." The arrow slipped through the air with harsh quickness and punctured the target only a centimeter away from its mate.

"Why are you practicing?" He already knew the answer. For Varia, practicing her archery was a way of calming herself down.

"Don't get to do it anymore." Another arrow was notched to the bow.

He tilted his head slightly to one side. "Is it necessary?"

The hidden meaning in the sentence did not go undetected by his sister; she knew him too well not to sense it. She was no longer in the archery division. "Yes."

This came as a surprise, but Strix's tone did not change. "Why?"

Finally she paused, arrow not yet released. Her eyes changed. "We're taking over the world, Strix," she murmured. "I need to know these things."

"These things?" This time he was very startled. 

Her pose slouched for a moment as she fought with indecisiveness. "Well…"

Her shoulders straightened, and she stood tall, posture suddenly changing as if something had come to mind. "I need to be prepared."

"That's true." He watched her re-align her shot. For a moment he did not speak. "You've changed, Varia."

She paused once more, again her arrow still notched. Her eyes drifted to the ground. "Reala thinks I need to know."

Today was simply the day for surprises. Strix lifted his head slightly, looking at her with a sideways glance that spoke of incredulity. "I see."

"Have you ever seen his leadership?" Her tone was soft.

He lifted one eyebrow, but she went on before he could speak. "He believes in this, Strix---he believes in _us_. He believes in me."

She stopped, blinking; then shook her head and straightened again. He spoke softly. "What do you mean, Varia?"

"Nothing." She shot the arrow.

Reala was not in the Dining Hall for breakfast. His absence went largely unnoticed; half of the High Seekers were missing from the table already, with Jackle asleep, NiGHTS gone, and Gulpo unable to seat himself at the table. One more did not matter.

While the population of Nightmare Castle, for the most part, was gathering in the Dining Hall to eat, the Seeker General was wandering the gardens. They were not particularly large or impressive, but rather several wandering paths that wended about a large fountain and several statues; stone benches were scattered about. Why such a peaceful place was here when the original purpose of the castle was defense wasn't really quite certain; it was usually accepted that whoever had designed the gorgeous grounds around Soft Museum had also been given a brief stint of work here.

Normally there were several maren about, taking advantage of the Dream World's ability to produce gorgeous blooms on any day of the year, but during mealtimes the garden was deserted. Reala was currently taking advantage of that; he wandered aimlessly along the small paths, his mind running over many things. He was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't notice he was not alone in the garden until he was nearly standing next to her.

RagDoll. She was seated on one of the benches, facing away from him; he knew her by her long purple hair that was a different and somehow more strange hue than any other maren's. She did not seem to notice him.

He approached her silently, intending to walk right by; as he passed the bench, however, her low voice addressed him. "What is bothering you, Seeker General?"

"Nothing that concerns you," replied Reala, a bit irritated that she would notice his feelings without even seeing him.

"Your worries concern us all."

Which was certainly true; he was pondering the Dream World as a whole. He eyed her suspiciously with the odd look someone will give a fortune-teller; half of cynicism, half of belief. "What do you mean by that?"

"You are our leader, Lord Reala. Your decisions affect us as a group."

"Ah." He sat down on the bench, figuring that speaking to her was just as conductive towards any sort of productivity as walking about aimlessly. 

"What is bothering you, Seeker General?" She repeated her first question, its low intonation and wording exactly the same. He closed his eyes briefly.

"Things are changing. I am pondering how much change will be needed on my own part."

"Well answered, Lord Reala."

"Who are you to judge whether my words are truthful or not?" he challenged suddenly, facing her.

"I did not judge whether they were truthful."

"No, but you---never mind." He sighed and looked out across the gardens again, and his voice unconsciously dropped. "I'm worried about our future."

"Many are."

"I'm a leader. They expect the leader to be smart, brave, intelligent; they want him to know everything and do everything perfectly, and not make a single decision that will bring about a bad result in the future---but what if the choices you make aren't easy ones? What if someone's going to get hurt no matter what you choose? Then they blame you for what goes wrong and refuse to give you credit for what goes right!"

"They also respect you."

"But who wants---" He cut himself off, feeling as if he were suddenly criticizing himself. "A leader's position isn't as nice as most people think."

"No one ever promised it would be easy."

"They expect me to have everything under control!" He waved his hand about them, to indicate the rest of the nightmaren population. "But how am I supposed to have control if things are falling into chaos?"

"Are they, Lord Reala?"

He closed his eyes again, knowing that he had to admit it sooner or later. "…yes, RagDoll. They are. If we're not careful, chaos will reign."

"Not chaos, Lord Reala. Chaos never reigns. There is always a design."

"You're sure of that?" His words held a challenge. "If Wizeman does not control what happens to us, and the world continues to fall apart as it's doing, then who's in control then?"

"I did not say anyone was in control."

"You said there was a design."

"And there is." She bent her head slightly, but her deep violet eyes were still fixed firmly upon him. "There are other wills at work in this universe besides Wizeman. Do not forget that you know very little about the world, when you come down to what truly decides the course of history."

"And what---or who---are you talking about?"  
"I do not know."

"You don't know and yet you say he exists."

"They, Lord Reala."

"There's more than one of them?"

"There are many wills that would seek to change the world for their own benefit, Lord Reala. Some of them do make a change that will alter history's course; some do not. It is the way of things."

"So you're saying that our fate is in the hands of a whole lot of strangers who have their own ends," muttered Reala. "That's comforting."

"Just because they can affect some small part, make some small change, does not mean that they can control the whole. Never forget that they are all shadowed in their turn by their creator."

"Their creator?"

"Of course. There must be one to make others. It stands to the universe's reason."

"So who made the creator?"

"No one did. The creator has always been."

"You said someone had to make the creatures."

"I did."

"So someone had to make the creator."

"No."

"How'd it come to be, then?"

"The creator always was."

"Your logic goes in a circle, RagDoll."

"Of course. The creator himself is a circle. The logic follows his guidance; he created it."

He held up four fingers to organize his points of argument. "Okay, so you say that someone had to create the creatures."

"That is true."

"You say that the person who created them is the creator."

"That is also true."

"You say that the creator was always there."

"Yes."

"You say that your logic returns to itself and still stands firm."

"Yes."

"I don't see where the circle connects."

"The creatures could only be created out of nothing, Lord Reala. Only an all-powerful persona who was not bound by the limits of time and space could create something out of nothing. Thusly, the creator must always be, as he has always been."

"Who says the creatures haven't always been here?"

"History and experience. Nightmaren do not last forever."

"They would if they didn't die."

"But we can only be created out of humans' energy. Without humans, we would never have become alive. We were not here until they were there."

"…and the humans live and die quickly."

"Yes. They can not simply spawn out of air. You know this."

"Of course. But then---where did the creator come from?"

"He is not human, Lord Reala. He is all-powerful, the creator. He always was."

"But…"

"The circle holds true."

"It also makes no sense whatsoever," retorted Reala.

RagDoll smiled. "Nothing ever does," she said.


	11. Alea Jacta Est

AN: Exactly, Nix. Vespers is extremely excitable, and tends to speak very quickly when she's flurried---originally, back in Out Of The Dark Change when she popped in on Stella tending Emil's wound, I put dashes in between each word to note the speed at which she was speaking. I've since just refrained from using any punctuation whatsoever, since it doesn't distract the eye as much…if you feel differently, or have any comments on that, please let me know!

injoke Yes, Reala. A circle. You get a biscuit. /injoke XD 

Aaaaaaaaand…here it is, one of the most important chapters of the whole ripping story. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Just don't lynch me.

Disclaimer: Of course, if I forget to say I don't own any of Sega's property, I will immediately be attacked by screaming lawyers who have parachuted into my living room by the hundreds, most of them having already filed lawsuits before they hit the ground. Therefore, I own nothing that belongs to Sega. Nothing at all. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Shoo.

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We never know we go. When we are going

We jest and shut the door;

Fate following behind us bolts it,

And we accost no more.

We Never Know We Go, by Emily Dickinson

Chapter Eleven:

Alea Jacta Est

_'My maren!'_

The mental summon echoed through the entire Dream World, calling to every nightmaren alive. Everywhere maren lifted their heads and waited. Amaranth and Apathy, tired after a long night's work, looked up from the forge they were bent over; Chaotica and Crecy, busy in the morning rush, paused where they stood in the kitchens; Stella, sponging Hist's forehead, paused and listened closely, Nyct's never-ceasing moans already being tuned out; bent studiously over Emirgast's diary, Vespers and Tessa looked up with a start, broken out of their focus on the past; Aster and Luna, silently sitting side by side in the Dining Hall after a night of crying, paused and waited; Corbeau, Hadrian, and Dysdane, recovering from their mad dash yesterday, waited patiently; in his bedroom, bundled tight under the covers, Jackle awoke with a start; in the garden, Reala's conversation with RagDoll ceased. All activity was suddenly frozen in immobility.

Wizeman's orders were calm and clear. _'The castle must be evacuated immediately. Every nightmaren alive is to gather what they want at hand and leave for the southward plains as fast as is possible. All wounded and young must be brought with. No one is to be left behind. Leave now.'_

He said no more.

The after-effect of this mental notice was worse than any other had ever been. Instantly there was a clamor in the Dining Hall, maren asking their neighbors what it was _this_ time. Several advocated staying put. Silent in the middle of the chaos, Luna put her head in her hands.

Out in the garden, Reala started up in surprise. "What's happened?"

"It's begun." RagDoll stood unhurriedly, calm and quiet as ever. "You will not be going, I expect."

"What are you talking about?"

"For another time." She turned away. "Remember that hope's a frail plant, but is often the only one that holds strong in a storm. I'm afraid I have to leave now."

Reala watched silently as she moved down the path, some small part of his mind pointing out that there was something wrong about her walk, although it was not until after she'd gone inside that he was able to put his finger on it.

She wasn't staggering.

Another mental message curled into his mind, making him jump once more; this, however, was apparently a private one. _'Reala. Come to me.'_

'Now, my lord?' he questioned, even while he was rising into the air to coast for the door. _'But the evacuation---'_

'You are needed by my side. Come.'

Following his master's orders, Reala found himself feeling as if he were very much losing control over the situation.

"Master wants to see me?"

AC shuffled a bit on his perch, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Jackle was sitting upright in bed, eyes wide, cape a rumpled mess about his shoulders; his voice was more like a child's than anything else. "But…leaving…why's he want to see _me?_"

AC stopped his shuffling and hopped to Jackle's shoulder, giving him an encouraging nudge and a caw. Jackle got up slowly, still slightly dazed. "But…I didn't do anything…"

He gathered his cape tighter about his shoulders and absently put AC back onto the bedpost. "No, no, you stay here. I'll see you in a bit, m'kay?"

AC cawed doubtfully. Jackle tapped him on the beak, a small sign they shared. "Promise I'll be back soon, don't worry."

AC cawed once and gave his version of Jackle's bow; the demi-maren smiled and returned it, sans the caw. Feeling a bit strengthened by the small exchange with his friend, he went out the door.

AC watched him go, worried.

Tessa was shoving her way through the crowd, a shuddering Vespers at her side, still clutching the diary. The archery teacher kept one hand firmly about the girl's shoulders, knowing that the library worker was easily made hysterical; at the same time, she was continually scanning the crowds for a sign of her brother. Where was Terrance?

"You look a bit flustered," announced a cheerful voice, as a smiling face framed by black and yellow peered over her shoulder.

Tessa showed no surprise. "You don't look so calm yourself."

"True." He, seeing that she had taken Vespers under her wing, placed a hand on top of his sister's to create a small, protective group about the girl as they made their way towards the courtyard. "What the Ideya is going on?"

"How would I know? But I'm certainly getting annoyed by the evacuation tendencies our ruler seems to be acquiring."

"Tell me about it," mumbled a voice by her side, and she looked to find Luna keeping step with them, her fingers locked tightly in those of Aster. The sparring instructor nodded at Vespers. "I see you're a chaperone, too."

"Uh-huh." Terrance briefly broke contact with them to dodge around Chaotica, who was ordering the cooking staff out with particular burdens of food as if she owned the kitchens. "Seems to be the happening thing!"

Apathy and Amaranth passed by, heading in the other direction; Corbeau gave them a tight-lipped smile as he and another scout maneuvered through the jam of nightmaren with a stretcher. Hist lay on it, moaning. Behind them, Strix and Varia were struggling to follow at their heels with another stretcher, this one carrying a sobbing Nyct.

Finally they were able to get out of the castle and into the courtyard; unfortunately, this was just as crowded. Several of the guards along the walltop were working to help confused nightmaren over the walls or through the gates and towards the southern plains. Chink and Chank, recognizable from quite a distance by their twin black outfits and shaggy green hair, were directing people through the gates. Chank helped Corbeau shift his grip on the stretcher's handles and gave Hist a quick guard's salute. Each of the guards created their own unique salute to use when they were awarded a post; Hist, with a weary grin, returned with his own personal sign.

"Miss Luna?" managed Aster, once they were finally out of the gates where space was in larger supply. "Why the south plains?"

"I have no idea, Aster." The sparring teacher rose into the air, still keeping a tight grip on the girl's hand; Aster seemed glad for the contact, and followed willingly. "But Wizeman has ordered it, so…"

"We hafta do it, at least until we figure out how to depose him and elect a new leader," inserted Terrance dryly. Luna shot him a look, but he returned it with a stare of independence. "What? Shouldn't we be allowed to complain?"

"Yes, actually," sighed Luna. "I quite honestly believe that our world is going to pot."

"Oh, really? That's good," said Terrance cheerfully. "Now I know I'm not the only one."

Inside the kitchens, nightmaren were hurrying to get out, most sure that some great disaster was impending, but many of them still had unfinished tasks to see to. Chaotica, her feet planted firmly on the countertop, was yelling orders and directing people as if she were the Seeker General himself.

"Crecy, douse the oven! You, yeah you with the brown hair---you're done, get out of here and take that basket of meat pies with you! Keric, drop the basket, y'don't need it, shove that pile of apples into a bag and take that instead! Hey, drop that---you've got something on the stove behind ya, take it off and get going! Take that basket of bread with you!"

"Having fun?" asked a wry voice by her ankle. She glanced down at Heckler, who was leaning calmly against the counter.

"Absolutely. I've always wanted to do this."

"I guessed. But are you going to stand there and yell all day? You need to get out---"  
"Hey, YOU! Where d'you think YOU'RE going?! Back up and take something with you! Grab that mince pie, over to the left!"

"---you think that all these other people need directions, 'cause most---"

"I TOLD you to---oh, forget you! YOU! By the turnovers! Grab some of tho---no, not those! Those are the cherry ones!"

"What's wrong with 'em?" called the other nightmaren.

"---then you, and y'know they can get out on their---"

"They taste like old shoe leather! With little beady things in it!"

"They taste like _what?_"

"---not sure what's wrong, but if the entire castle has to be evacuated, then there's probably a very good---"

"Old shoe leather! With LITTLE BEADY THINGS IN IT!"

"Oh. Okay."

"---and you know…well…I'd feel awful if you got hurt, so I think you'd better go, huh?"

She looked back down at Heckler. "There. Now wha'd you say?" 

He reached up a hand to help her down, stepping back to give her room as she climbed to the floor. "Will you come away with me?"

"Yeah. No, those are cherry too---the ones on the left! Yes! Those!"

"You mean it?" He began guiding her towards the door.

"Of course I mean it." She kissed him quickly, on the cheek, and added over her shoulder, "And grab a tablecloth while you're at it!"

"I mean it, too," he said, and kissed her hand.

"You too?"  
Reala, upon coming to Wizeman's chamber, was slightly surprised to find all of the other High Seekers already gathered there. They seemed surprised to find each other present as well; apparently Wizeman had contacted them all privately. 

None of them looked well. Puffy was nervous and ill at ease; she had spent the past few days holed up in the Great Hall, trying to ignore the chaos that had become their lives outside. 

Gillwing was silent, his dull eyes not showing his normal eagerness to please; he was incredibly confused with what was happening to his life. As the days had gone by, he'd withdrawn into himself. He rarely spoke any more.

Clawz was sitting upright, red eyes darting to those around him, trying to guess what they were thinking and what would be a proper response; he's lost all confidence in himself, it seemed. He was hesitant to express any opinion in public until he knew where the ground lay.

Jackle was now, to put it simply, the wild card. Reala was never sure how the demi-maren would react to any given statement; one moment he seemed incredibly confident and cheerful, the next he was despondent and frightened. The Seeker General was beginning to ponder whether Jackle would be able to hold his position of leadership much longer.

Gulpo was---still Gulpo.

Their master loomed over them, the shadowy room about them erasing all sense of size and ratio, making Wizeman all they could focus on. For the first time in awhile, Reala found himself feeling slightly on guard around his master. 

"Master, if I c'n ask, what's with the evacuation?" Jackle. The demi-maren was fiddling with a card, showing that he was nervous, but his voice was calm enough.

"You will know soon enough."

"Um…then, what'cha need us here for?"

"For a future project."

"A future---"

He never got any further. Even as he spoke, their master's hands stretched out, one facing each maren; the eyes in their palms were open, but dark with a strange mist. Reala barely had time to throw a hand in front of his face before the mist became a reality, swirling out about every one of them.

Wizeman watched in satisfaction as the High Seekers, one by one, fell asleep under the powerful fog. With a small nudge he'd moved them aside, into the shadows where they would rest dreamlessly until he had need of them again; he would have kept them awake, but he did not want to be distracted while he worked on his masterpiece.

Soon.

"How far out in the southern plains did he mean, I wonder?" asked Chaotica to the air.

"I don't know, but I'm personally not going a step further than I have to," said Lunatic. "I can't believe this is actually happening. The entire castle just up and walking out."

"And where are our leaders?" Insomnia moved to his side, several blankets in his arms. "I don't see his highness Reala tromping out along with the rest of us common folk."

"He's filing his nails," snickered Emil.

"Claws, you mean," added Aniline wryly.

"Now, now." Corbeau scolded the younger scout gently. "Speak nicely of your elders."

"I would if he were out her stomping along with us."

"He may have something very important to do."

"That's what I said!" complained Emil. "He has to file his nails!"

Luna glanced over at the group of younger maren gathered around a stretcher. "I wonder what they're all laughing about so suddenly."

"Don't look at me. I certainly can't find anything funny about our current situation, apart from perhaps the sheer absurdity of it all."

"I still want to know why we're doing this." Terrance kicked aside a small rock, raising up a puff of dust. "If he's going to have us tramp all the way through Stick Canyon to the South Plains, he should at least tell us why!"

"I'm sure a lot of nightmaren want to know." Tessa stopped briefly to look back at the giant, rippling dark form that was the populace of Nightmare Castle. Many of the nightmaren were carrying bundles of food or blankets, thinking ahead to the possibility of staying out for some time.

Dysdane pulled up next to her, following her gaze. "It's rather amazing, I suppose," she murmured. 

"Very much so."

"How many of us there truly are."

"I was thinking more along the lines of, 'that Wizeman can just say the word, and all these poor maren have to go trudging through the canyon for him'."

She smirked. "That too."

"Yo, Tess, don't get left behind!"

"Shut up, Terrance," she returned as she joined him once more. Next to him, Vespers smiled up at her weakly. The diary was still safely pressed against her heart.

Nightmare Castle lay perfectly silent under the midday sun. Inside its spacious rooms, plates and food lay abandoned on the tables; sunbeams shining through windows streaked across the floor un-disturbed. The halls were empty of all life. 

All life, that is, excepting one solitary crow that was flying from room to room, searching desperately for any other life form. Not being a nightmaren, the crow had not heard Wizeman's general message, and the evacuation had badly flustered him. He would have gone with, but as he watched every maren leave the gates, often with food or belongings, he scanned their faces for a certain half-visible one---and never found who he was looking for. His friend was still somewhere in Nightmare Castle, probably in Wizeman's chamber; and, as he could not gain access into the room until someone opened the door for him, he was involved with flying through the castle in a rabid search for someone else to be with.

The person he was looking for was currently lying on the floor of Wizeman's chamber, stretched out on his side, his hand pressed to his mouth like a child. Around him five other creatures lay, all of them asleep as well. The noise of the evacuation and the subsequent deafening silence went unnoticed by the six sleepers.

Their master was nearby, but his attention was focused on something other than they. One hand held out for the others to see, he had willed the eye in its center to show him the fringes of Stick Canyon, where the last evacuees were straggling out of the dust and onto the beginnings of the grassy plains that lay beyond southward. He was waiting for Stick Canyon to be abandoned of all life.

When the last nightmaren seemed to have left it, he commanded his vision to slowly begin moving back towards Nightmare Castle, searching for any stragglers. A short way through the canyon he found a small group of younger maren who had moved out slower than the rest, and these he followed on their way towards the southern plains. They took some time getting out, but he could wait.

When they'd finally reached the others, who were now settling down across the plains, he once again began scanning back; this time, he found no more stragglers, and made it all the way to Nightmare's gates. Once he was convinced that the entire population was beyond a certain point, he closed off the vision.

_'Finally, it is time.' _He held out all six hands. The glowing orb, his masterpiece, hovered silently into them; surrounded by the stone hands, it seemed almost like a nightmare creature itself, many-armed and a center of power. 

Each eye closed, and together they circled the orb closer, drawing on its strength, nearly touching it as they began to sap its power. Concentrating solely on his work alone, Wizeman began.

"Well, we're here---now what do we do?"

"Don't ask me," said Terrance. "I just came along for the pretzels."

"Shaddup," was Tessa's kind-hearted reply, as she surveyed the vast group of nightmaren about them. "For the love of the fifth energy, what are we doing here?"

"I was just asking that myself." Lunatic put down the bucket he'd been carrying and began helping Insomnia set out the blankets the bandanna-wearing nightmaren had brought, making a place for Hist and Nyct to be set down. "It's times like this I wish we had a Customer Complaint Hotline."

"To who?" retorted Insomnia. "Wizeman? He'd whop you a mental one and yell, 'get back to work'!"

"Actually, I thought that was your boss," corrected Lunatic.

"Same thing. We can't connect with him anyway…unless you've got a computer stashed in a bag that I didn't know about."

"Lemme check. No."

"We could always try thinking really hard in his direction."

"What?"  
"Hey, it works for him."

Multiple groans. "Shaddap, Som!"  
The arrival of Strix and Varia, Nyct stretched out between them, made the younger boys quit joking and hurry to finish layering the blankets out in a cushion for the stretchers. The siblings were careful not to jar as they set Nyct down, but the girl was still moaning. "So hot so hot so hot so hot…"

Insomnia moved back uncomfortably, nearly bumping into Corbeau as the scout, working with a friend, managed to set Hist down next to Nyct. The guard was tight-lipped and silent, unlike his fellow wounded.

Stella shoved her way through the maren that had gathered about the stretchers and knelt by Hist's side, ranting to herself as she began checking to see how his bandages had held up during the ride. "Once I get back, I'm havin' a good stiff talk with Wizeman, yi' see if I don't! What's he think, yi c'n just brush off a Serin infection or a' Equs attack like tha'? The brute! It'll be no wonder if these two take an extra week just t' pull through…"

She gave Hist a pat on the shoulder and moved to Nyct's side, beginning to fuss with the girl's hand. "Strix, who'd yi get t' bring the water?"

Strix gestured to Lunatic, who staggered over with the bucket of water and dropped it by her side. Stella had already pulled a cloth out of the medic's bag slung over her shoulder and began dipping it in the water and wringing it out, still ranting. "Just out a' nowhere, up an' drag 'em out! Yi'd think th' brute would at least have the decency t' warn us, but no, it's just up and pull 'em out by their shoulders if yi have to! I tell yi, Stella, it's---"

Nyct moaned and then shrieked as Stella began patting the infection-crusted wound. "Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow hot coooool…"

"---an' she's not even halfway through!" raged Stella. "The great brute! Who does he think he is?"  
"Ow ow ow ow ow ow…"

"Now just hold tight, Nyct, this'll cool it down in a sec…the monster, he could have at least seen t' it that we had a proper way t' carry 'em, but no, we had to drag 'em in stretchers!"

Nyct's eyes opened wide suddenly, and Stella realized that they were no longer filled with pain, but fear. "What is it, Nyct?"

"Those." Her voice was hoarse. "Those…who are they?"

"Who?"

"Those…the people…" Her hand was trembling as she pointed over Stella's shoulder. "Those…horrible…white…people…behind you…who are they?!" 

Stella, unnerved by the girl's feverish whisper when she knew Nyct was not delusional, looked behind herself. 

Vespers stood there, alone, silent, eyes wide as she stared at the distressed nightmaren on the ground. A red book was pressed tightly to her chest.

"I don't know," she whispered.

Now.

The energy that he had gathered, collected over ages, purified and melded into his masterpiece---now it was time to use it. It glowed in his hands, seeping into his being, filling him with a power that he had never before known, could never have expected. 

__

'So this is what it feels like to be a god.'

And the power exploded from his hands, soaring out in an eruption of change.

It shot upwards in a giant wave of power, spreading out from the orb, a shimmering tsunami of revolution. It spread over the sleeping maren near him, covering them in its power. It rippled through the earth like a colossal tumor, never breaking the surface, making the ground tremble. It spread through the air, reaching up to the very top of the sky, making the sunlight waver. In a giant bubble of soundlessness it coated the land. 

Now.

NiGHTS felt it happen.

The wave passed over him in a terrific shock, and for a moment he could not move under the backwash of the great wave. He lay against the cold floor of his prison, staring as the wave continued on across the land and out of his sight. Tuck, clinging to one of the Ideya Palace's posts, breathed out a sigh.

"What the Ideya was that?"

NiGHTS continued staring the way the wave had gone, eyes wide. "I have no idea, Tuck. But how much you want to bet that it was something major?"

Tuck let go of the pillar and landed with a babyish 'oomph' on the ground. "But what _was_ it?"

"I told you, I don't know." He shook his head wearily, still feeling slightly woozy from the sudden onslaught of power. "My head hurts."

The nightmaren amassed on the southern plains saw it happen

Together they watched as a massive wave swallowed their home, rushing out across the land in a great and shining wall of power, flooding over everything and swallowing it all in its oscillating depths. It reached for them, coming closer at an incredible pace, consuming the canyon, reaching the edge of the plains…

And it stopped.

With a massive, soundless, horrible heave, it ripped itself away from them and sealed itself off, shimmering round pearls of its power bounding away as it cracked and shuddered into a shield.

Later, when asked to describe it, most of them would be unable to find the words. The massive wave had inexplicably turned itself into a bubble of power. Its surface was almost unable to be seen, for it was delicate and mirror-like, reflecting back the scenery around it and yet allowing a faint, ghost-like shadow of its contents to show through. It looked like some giant crystal globe.

Luna slumped against her lance, staring. "We've been shut out."

No one was able to answer her.


	12. A City Built In A Day

AN: Yes, two chapters. Consider it a Christmas gift---it's the best and only thing I can give you, and I owe so much to you as readers and reviewers that it's not even funny any more.

Random Person In The Audience: YOU MEAN WE HAVE TO SIT THROUGH TWICE THE LENGTH?!

Yes, you've brought this upon yourselves. Merry Christmas.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own any of Sega's characters. But if Santa gets me that homing-missile launcher I asked for, that may very well change. Stay tuned.

__

The people will live on.

The learning and blundering people will live on.

They will be tricked and sold and again sold

And go back to the nourishing earth for rootholds,

The people so peculiar in renewal and comeback,

You can't laugh off their capacity to take it…

107 from The People, Yes by Carl Sandburg

__

Chapter Twelve:

A City Built In A Day

Deep within the heart of Nightmare, Wizeman let out a satisfied breath.

It was done.

His masterpiece. A pure, unbreakable shell of power, encasing his world in a shield of peace. The Dream World could become unbalanced, dreambeasts could ran rampage without, the world could tear itself apart; within his shield, he and his small kingdom of dreams would be untouched.

He and his prize creations. He turned to gaze down at the sleeping creatures that lay next to him, each of them curled and lost in their own dreamless sleep, unaware of anything about them. Six creatures, six dreams; perfect. He was truly a genius.

It was a bit of a shame to have lost so many of his creations, but if they couldn't be trusted, he did not want them to taint his perfect world. The six would be enough---no, they would be more than enough! They would be the perfect nightmare creatures, each in their own perfect nightmare!

His laugh, though tired, was triumphant. He was truly a god of a perfect world.

Luna let out a harsh breath, and shoved her hair out of her face. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have officially been shut out."

"You said that already," said Tessa mechanically.

Aster skittered to her teacher's side, hands clasped to her heart. "Miss Luna…wh-what is that? What's happened?"

"I'm not sure, Aster, but it LOOKS like some GREAT TRAITOROUS RAT has gone and SEALED US ALL OUT of our OWN HOME." She pounded the end of her lance into the ground with an angry snarl. "Of all the two-faced, disgusting, two-timing…"

Terrance sat on the sparse grass, moaning. "Tessa, what'll we do?"

"I don't know, Terrance."

Around them, the gathered nightmaren were beginning to panic. "What'll we do?"

"What's happened?"

"Oh Wizeman, what's that?"

"Where's the leaders?"  
"What is it?!"

"What'll we do?"

An ear-splitting whistle shrilled through the air, followed by a shout. "ALL EYES ON ME!"

Near the edge of the crowd, Chaotica was standing high on Heckler's shoulders, his hands wrapped about her ankles to balance her. It was his signature whistle that pierced their ears.

Chaotica was, once again, taking control. "Panicking's just going to make things worse," she cried out over the vast group of nightmaren. "So let's just all stand quiet and hear what our leaders have to say, m'kay?"

The teachers gathered together realized with a start that she was looking towards them. Now that the High Seekers were gone, the instructors were the next on the line of duty.

Tessa, as usual, was the most level-headed. Her calm voice carried through the silent air. "Listen closely. Apparently we've been shut out of the castle and the grounds surrounding it, and we don't know when or if we'll ever be let back in. So we're going to set up camp out here for the night, and prepare ourselves for making up a colony outside of the barrier."

"Are you sure we can do that?" called someone from the crowd. "We don't have any supplies!"

"They all come from out of the castle," replied Tessa. "We've got enough maren-power to take care of ourselves."

"But what about the monsters?" This question probably came from a younger maren. 

Luna stepped up in her turn. "We fought off a world of dreambeasts before, and we can do it again. All it'll take is work and obedience."

"To who?"

Luna sighed and rubbed the grip of her lance absently. "The last leaders you had skewed you a big one, I know. Do you trust us?"

Aster cheered at this. "Of course we do, Miss Luna!"

"Well, we're going to work together and make ourselves a colony out here. It's been done before."

"So a cheer for the Free Nightmaren Colony!" cried Insomnia, leaping onto a boulder with a shout. "To all of us!"

The slightly confused cheer that greeted him, mostly by the younger fighters, was enough. He laughed and struck a dramatic pose. "WE RULE!"

"However we'll also starve if we don't get things organized," said Tessa with an expression of long-suffering, shoving him off and taking his place to better reach the ears of the assembly. "Who's part of the kitchen crew?"

Hands raised in the crowd. She gestured to them. "All right, your duty then is to gather together all of the food brought and organize a way of feeding the group. Those of you who gather, you help out the kitchen workers for today---we'll get to gathering tomorrow. You younger ones who tend the fires and torches!" Assorted calls answered her. "Your job is to get several large fires going. Forget searching for firewood; get some of the gatherers to help you collect some shrubs and ground cover for fuel. Fighters!"

This was a large part of the population. She gestured towards the instructors. "Find your teacher; they'll give you orders. Your job is to protect us all until we have defenses going."

She guessed what was going through their minds, and added, "The last few encounters with dreambeasts have been bad because we were not prepared. With such a large round of defense, as long as we stay alert we should have no problems. The rest of you, whatever your job is, if you're not sure what do then ask one of the leaders."

She stepped down, and the crowd, after a moment, broke up into chattering and shuffling bags as they began to set up camp and go about their various assigned tasks. Lunatic raised an eyebrow at Tessa. "Never knew you were a politician."

"I never doubted it!" proclaimed Terrance, putting an arm about his sister's shoulders and ignoring the odd look she gave him. Luna gestured the other teachers closer as she noticed the group of fighting maren coming closer. 

"Okay, defenses are what?"

"I'll take my archers and make a half-ring facing the forest," said Tessa quietly, pointing to the western woods. "That's where all the attacks have been coming from recently, and with such a large stretch of plain between here and there we'll be able to pick off most of what comes."

"Right." Luna scratched a quick circle in the dirt, indicating their soon-to-be camp. "I'll take my skirmishers and meet your edge on the left, facing the mountains southward; Terrance, your acrobats can take the eastern side, if that's all right with you. They'd be best for any sort of creature that comes from the ocean."

"Sure."

"I'll keep a few of the swordsmen behind your archers," she informed Tessa. She nodded to her brother. "The same with your acrobats. You'll both need some sword back-up if there's any serious action."

"Same here. I'll send out a few archers---I have more than enough."

"All right." Luna smiled at Aster, who was flanked by as many younger fighting maren as the girl had been able to find. "So let's start your first OTJ round of training, hm?"

"Um…yeah." Aster fiddled with the grip on her lance. "Uh…Miss Luna?"  
"Yes?"  
"Don't you find it…y'know…kinda weird that in a few we're all out here and suddenly trying to live on our own?"

"Aster, with all the crazy things that have been happening recently, all you can really do is just try to roll with the flow. And keep a nice sharp bit of metal by your side."

"Carpe diem," added Insomnia, giving his axe an experimental swing. Luna eyed him. 

"Carp-a who?"  
"Somethin' Morgen used to use---he said it was in some kind of dreamer language. Basically it means you live each day as it comes. Carpe diem."

"Uh-huh." Luna tried it out herself. "Carpe diem…I like that."

"So do I." He twirled and hefted his weapon high, grinning. "Carpe diem, baby!"

Kneeling by the stretchers, Stella patted Nyct's shoulder gently, soothing the fevered girl. "Don't worry, child, th' leaders have everythin' under control."

Nyct was calm. "I'm not worried. It's all right now."

"Why's that?"

Nyct leaned back, closing her eyes peacefully. "The white people are gone now."

It wasn't finished yet. He'd saved some power in reserve, in wait for the finishing touches his perfect world would need. But he wouldn't make them just yet. Later, after he'd rested, he would finish.

His hands clasped the greatly-diminished orb, and he began absorbing the last bit of energy within. He'd most likely have to use it all, but it was worth it. The world would be wonderful.

Feeling the power seep into him, he relaxed and let himself rest.

Corbeau had organized some of the scouts in training and, along with several of Luna's skirmishers, had begun a trip to check out their surroundings as well as give the shield a closer look. Aniline, supremely excited over being given the boon of coming with, kept step with him; as they made their way over the grassy plain northwards, she asked him a question that had been on her mind for some time.

"Why's that thing up, anyway?"

"I have no idea, Di."

Her nickname, pronounced 'die', came from the fact that she had a pink diamond painted over each eye. Newcomers were often quite electrified to hear someone scream "DIE!" from across the grounds, but Aniline had become so used to the nickname that she didn't even give it a passing blink. "D'you think it's really a barrier to keep us out, like Miss Luna said? Maybe someone attacked Lord Wizeman…"

"Perhaps, but I find it highly doubtful. It's far too convenient that we were ordered to evacuate and then, as soon as every maren was out, the shield was raised. None of the leaders came with us, you'll notice. No doubt he had some other use for them."

"So we're the useless ones?"  
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't know what Wizeman was planning, I mean. I do know that we're certainly not useless."

"That's good." She shielded her eyes and stared at the great bubble-like wall that rose up to meet them, almost invisible. "It's hard to tell it's even there…"

"Not if you look near the ground."

She did as he mentioned, and noticed his point. "Oh, so that's our reflection we're seeing!"

"Sort of." He waved a hand briefly, and the faint, ghostly outline of a small maren in a group moved in reply. "It reflects back everything, but at the same time it's apparently semi-transparent. Look in the skyline, right about a quarter up, where the Spring Valley mountains should be---you can see them, just barely."

"Oh yeah…weird." She squinted upwards. "So where's it end? I can't tell---it reflects the sky and shows sky through, too!"

"I can't tell either. I suppose if you flew high enough you'd be able to tell by when your reflection ended."

"Mm." She slowed; they were nearing the barrier. One of the skirmishers, a strapping young boy named Shadow, looked back to Corbeau.

"Now that we're here, what exactly are we suppose to do to the thing? Attack it?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of poking it with a stick."

"Oh." Shadow seemed relieved.

"Um…Corbeau? We don't have any sticks. There aren't any trees around here."

"I was joking, Di." He approached the barrier calmly, and drew the small dagger that hung by his side. Aniline held her breath as he reached out with it and touched the barrier.

Nothing exploded.

She moved closer, watching him poke at it. "So…what is it?"

"I have no clue," said Corbeau. He pressed the point of his dagger against the barrier again, showing that it repelled him without a sound. "It's not quite what I'd call hard, but it doesn't give any, either. Nothing I've ever seen before, that's for certain."

Aniline reached out hesitantly and poked at it. Nothing happened. Several of the other younger nightmaren came closer too, then, and also poked it; soon it became a form of amusement, to lean back on or to run into. Corbeau smiled indulgently at the boys who were shoving each other into it and turned away. "I hate to break up your fun, but we're on a mission. Let's hurry on and check out the surroundings before it gets dark, m'kay?"

"Hey, Corbeau, what's this?"

He looked over to where Shadow and a friend were poking at something round and shiny on the ground. He moved to their sides quickly, always cautious of a dreambeast; when he saw what they were investigating, however, he relaxed and looked at it thoughtfully.

"I don't know."

"It looks kind like the barrier, y'know?" Shadow poked the round orb again with the tip of his sword. "Except a bit more bluish. I wonder what it is?"

"There's some more over there," called one of his friends, who had mounted a small rise and was pointing a bit further east. "They're all down the edge of the barrier."

"That's odd." Corbeau looked back down at the ball. "You're right, it does look like the barrier. Perhaps it was some form of side-effect."

"I wonder---" Shadow reached down to pick the ball up, and promptly found himself holding air. The others all started back.

"It just absorbed into him!"

"Shads, you okay?"

"Are you all right?"

Shadow paused and swallowed, placing a hand over his heart. "Yeah, actually, I feel fine. Kinda better, really. Like I just got a little shot of caffeine."

Corbeau nodded. "Ah…that makes sense. It's leftover energy. You're made of living energy, and so it absorbed into you when you touched it."

"So why didn't it absorb into his sword?" piped up Aniline. "That's energy."

"I'm not sure…although that energy was once metal, which was refined, and then hammered into his sword, whereas we're more closely related to dream energy. Perhaps that's why."

"Eh, either way, I feel great." Shadow grinned. "Whoo, better'n coffee any day!"

"That's nice." Corbeau gestured to the other maren gathered around them. "All right, let's move on. And don't go chasing blue chips all over the place."

"Blue chips?" Aniline jogged to get back to her place by his side.

"They're blue, and they're a chip of the barrier. You can come up with something better if you'd like."

"Nah, blue chips is fine." 

Wizeman bent over the orb in his hands, concentrating. It was much harder to create over long distances…

The orb was not His Orb. His Orb had been entirely absorbed into his body, filling him once more with the pure energy that he'd been gathering from Ideya for centuries. Now that he had only six creatures to do his bidding, it would take far longer for him to regain his strength once he was finished, but that was all right. He'd planned for it, and had already begun plotting out a way to make up for the loss of maren-power.

The seeing-orb held between his hands reflected a world within itself, showing him a place not that far from home. It was inside a building; one in Splash Garden, to be exact. He was shaping that building and its contents.

He'd already taken care of the structure itself, and was now furnishing it. Long halls spread out in circles from the main bedroom, all of them wide and tall to give plenty of room for bouncing. The walls were covered in vibrant wallpapers, luxurious velvet hangings draped around tasteful paintings and flowing gracefully down the sides of short columns, which held priceless vases and sculptures. Case upon case of valuable jewelry were shelved in dark-wooded cabinets lining the walls. Bookshelves were placed in different spots, decorated with gold trim. Long, low tables were flanked by cushioned ottomans, and lamps stood in corners to provide a dusky, sensual atmosphere. This was obviously a place of deep luxury.

Wizeman was currently busy molding the ceiling, sculpturing the openings and doorjambs between rooms. He gave the last one a small tweak, and the thing was done.

One more to go. He willed the orb to change its view to Soft Museum, where a monolithic structure stood. In this place, he'd work a bit on the outside first.

He began pulling at the molecular structure of the grounds outside, softening the statues and the paths, pushing and prodding at things until the entire landscape looked decidedly skewed. One or two unfortunate Nightopians were caught in the middle of the changing landscape, but he ignored their shrill cries and focused on solidifying the terrain into one soft, supple item. Small pavilions and benches slowly became molded with the ground.

Done with the grounds, which now most certainly fit the name of Soft Museum, he moved to the building itself. Firstly, as to perspective…

The few Nightopians who had not fled the gardens in terror were now amazed to see the entire museum shudder, break from its base, and flip on its side. 

Now for some more tweaking with the rules of physics. He repeated his work of the outside with the inside, pulling the walls and columns about like taffy until the entire museum had become one solid, soft playground of twisted walls and flipped windows. Paintings were permanently sealed to the walls, and doors bent in odd ways. By concentrating hard, he was able to alter the gravity a bit, making the ceiling draw when the floor did not. This occupant would love his new home.

The lighting was bright and airy, sun rays beaming in through the skylights; as he moved deeper into the museum, however, he sealed the windows away and began placing lamps in small corners and wall sconces. The lighting became more dim, shining through lampshades marked with a faded spade pattern; the ceilings and floors began to have tile patterns of card suits. Soft hallways stretched out in long, circling patterns, moldable mirrors impressed in their walls and blocking off hallways. Draperies of gauze and transparent silk hung overhead and, sometimes, across doorways; odd moldings and indentations in the tops of columns and scattered across walls gave the effect of strange faces peering out, invisible once looked at straight-on but appearing with the length of shadows. Still the hallways became more twisted and tortuous.

Finally, in the very center, they ended in a large room. A pile of giant blocks lay tossed in the middle, their sides flaunting the same card-suit pattern that adorned the floor in garish colors; question marks flashed from the sides of one, and a giant ball lay against them. The ceiling was a bowed pattern of red laser-lighting and mottled black. Humungous jack-in-the-boxes, their heads nearly touching the ceiling and their eyes unfocused, stood in the corners; one was broken and stared out from the shelter of its box with unblinking eyes, and the other bobbed eerily. The walls seemed to fall away into nothingness and stars, and a curving stone staircase led up to an open door, whose frame stood alone against the emptiness beyond. A guillotine, painted in bright child's colors, stood in one corner. The slightly off measures of the walls and lines in the room gave a twisted, strange perspective.

Perfect. Wizeman pulled away, tired but proud. The nightmares were finished; now all he had to do was finish the nightmaren. 

" 'Hoy, Chink, it's us!"

The green-haired guard waved for the row of fighters that had stood up to lower their weapons. Corbeau and his scouting party came closer, a smile on the scout's face. "Guess we know whether this side's guarded well. Nice reaction there."

Chank joined his brother, giving the others the signal to return to their posts. "Thank you. Any findings?"

"No, it looks clear from here to the edge of the woods. We didn't care go any further, since night's coming on, but you've got the whole plain clear."

"All right." The two moved back to their assigned posts. Corbeau told the scouts to scatter, and headed for the nearest fire.

The fire-tenders had done a good job, as there were multiple blazes about and plenty of fuel. The teachers were gathered around one of the smaller ones and all looked up expectantly as the scout approached.

"Nothing," he said in reply to their silent questions, as he seated himself next to Luna. "That barrier holds firm, but it doesn't hurt, and we can't get anything through it. No dreambeasts on the plains all the way to the forest. Nothing at all…although we did find some odd orbs near the edge of the barrier. They seem to be made of pure energy, and I believe they broke off from the barrier. They absorb into any nightmaren who touches them, but it's like a dose of caffeine, nothing more. That's all."

Tessa prodded the fire, moving back as a log fell and erupted into flames. "Then it looks like we're officially succeeding in our first night on our own."

"On our own, pah." Luna punted away a stone in irritation. "You mean kicked out."

"Call it what you like, but I think we're doing quite well." Corbeau looked over to one of the larger cooking fires, where Chaotica was directing others to the making of dinner and basking in the praise she received for having food brought along. Heckler stood beside her, taking orders and backing her up. Amaranth, noticing Corbeau watching the two, chuckled. 

"Do y'know that Heckler asked me to make him a ring to give her as soon as I get another forge set up?" he asked, nodding towards the two younger maren who were overseeing food preparation. "Apparently he's her boyfriend now."

"Boyfriend?" Corbeau raised his eyebrows. Relationships between nightmaren were uncommon; female and male nightmaren were created to compliment each other as helpmeets, not to induce reproduction. A 'relationship' was more of a pact to hold a solid friendship for a lifetime. It was still a serious commitment, however.

"I'm surprised Heckler admitted to that," he commented.

"Well, they are pretty close."

"True."

He looked across the fire, noticing for the first time that Tessa had a young girl by her side. He recognized her as Vespers, the librarian; the girl seemed very nervous about something. She was holding a book like her life depended on it.

"What's that for?" He nodded to the book. Tessa sighed and, with a nod from Vespers, explained.

Stella cocked an eyebrow when the archery instructor had finished. "Ghosts in the library?"

"I dunno," whispered Vespers. "They're just…there."

"What's in the book?" asked Apathy.

Tessa shook her head. "Not much---it's just a diary. There's no ultimate important information in it, I suppose, although we did find something interesting near the middle."

"Interesting isn't the right word for it," muttered Vespers.

"This nightmaren," continued Tessa, "whoever he was, put forth the theory that the Dream World is really only one of many worlds out there---different pockets of time and space with their own laws of physics and populations, separated by thin barriers of energy. A large shift in energy could cause a tear in the barrier which would eventually heal by itself. He surmised that the dreambeasts originally came from another one of these worlds, which is why they were so different from the rest of us."

Corbeau cocked his head at her, brown hair falling across his face. "And you believe it?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to call it fact, but I'm beginning to have a hunch that he's right. It would explain the sudden appearance of dreambeasts again." She sighed, and a shadow flitted across her face. "It would have been far better if I knew he was lying," she murmured.

The scout raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because." She sounded as if her thoughts should be obvious. "If there really are worlds out there that we don't know about---if there really are worlds out there with monsters like the dreambeasts---then what's separating them from us? It isn't very much, Corbeau, we know that. They've broken through it."

A pall settled on the group gathered about the fire, and her voice, though low, carried well. "So who else might come along sooner or later?"

"It may have been a freak accident," Terrance tried to reason. "We haven't seen any dreambeasts appearing out of nowhere before."

"That's not the point. The point is that it could happen, and that it has at least once. Don't you see?"

She put a hand about Vesper's shoulders, her voice becoming even lower. "We may have just opened a Pandora's box."

The leaders fell silent.

"We may have and we may not." Corbeau, as usual, was providing the soothing. "But this is all simply speculation, remember. He may have been wrong."

"Perhaps. But then where did these dreambeasts come from?" 

The scout had no answer. Tessa leaned back, triumphant in her warning of trouble; Dysdane folded her hands calmly. "Philosophic theories are interesting enough in their place, but it's not useful to us now. Was there anything else?"

"Not really, no."

"So why are you keeping it?"

She looked down at Vespers, who was shivering. In the background the younger guards were becoming loud, joking with each other most likely, and she had to raise her voice slightly. "Something wants her to have this book, and something else doesn't. I don't know what we're dealing with, but until we find out I think it's best to keep this book hidden and safe."

"Yeah." Vesper's voice was almost a whisper. 

"Well she certainly can't keep it," murmured Dysdane. "It's wreaking havoc on her. Couldn't you find somewhere else to put it?"

"I was a bit caught up in the minor matter of evacuating the entire castle and creating a colony," replied Tessa. "Not yet, no."

"Bury it," suggested Amaranth.

"No, then we'll never find it again. And if it's so valuable that things are beginning to get distinctly creepy over it, I think I'd rather keep my hands on this, thank you."

"Well, we'll just have to hide it somewhere," sighed Terrance, leaning back and poking the fire. 

A moan made them all glance sympathetically at Nyct, who had been moved close to the fire to be warm on her stretcher. Hist glanced at his fellow sufferer before looking at Stella. "I think she needs to have her hand bathed again."

Stella moved to Nyct's side. The girl, however, was fully conscious, and shook her head. "We can't afford to waste the water," she wheezed. "We won't have any more until the gatherers get to Mystic Forest tomorrow…"

"Nonsense." Stella began pulling away the bandages, knowing she was backed by every other nightmaren sitting around them. "Hold still."

"You should hide the book," whispered Nyct. "Hide it now."

Tessa looked at her from across the fire. "Why?"

Nyct's voice sank even lower. "So the white people won't find it."  
"The white---"

She trailed off, remembering the girl's feverish murmurings earlier. "What did they look like?"

Nyct moaned and pressed a finger to her lips, eyes wide and haunted.

The silence that fell over the group was broken by Aster's shrill scream. Hovering by the edge of the fire, its legs still in the shadows, its features pale and gaunt, a white being stood. One hand was held out towards the girl on the stretcher; its white eyes gazed blankly at her. A bundle of dead twigs was in its grasp.

Nyct's voice was low and terror-filled. "What do you want?"

"I think you need some of this woodsbane," said Morgen. 

__

Note: Before I get plenty of questions as to the last sentence: yes, it's him, yes, he's alive, no, I'm not just being cruel and getting your hopes up, no, he's not a ghost, and yes, it's part of the storyline. A gift to you and myself both.

Merry Christmas!


	13. The Making Of A New World

__

Backword: 

A sudden, chaotic end for a chaotic time. Quo vadis, thalassa---wither goest thou, humanity?

Shall we ever know?

__

The people know the salt of the sea

And the strength of the winds

Lashing the four corners of the earth.

The people take the earth 

As a tomb of rest and a cradle of hope…

The fireborn are at home in the fire.

The stars make no noise.

You can't hinder the wind from blowing.

Time is a great teacher.

Who can live without Hope?

In the darkness with a great bundle of grief 

The people march.

In the darkness, and overhead a shovel of stars for

Keeps, the people march:

"Where to? What next?"

107 from The People, Yes by Carl Sandburg

Chapter Thirteen:

The Making Of A New World

He started with the hardest---Reala.

Wizeman reached out, lifted the sleeping maren into his hand, and with a flash of his eyes Reala awoke.

Dark. All about him was dark. He couldn't see through it and couldn't hear. The air seemed thick and too hard to breathe---he was going to suffocate!

He tried to stand, but felt as if he were floating. Where was he? What was going on?

"Reala."

His master's voice made him jerk his head up, searching. "What?"  
An unexpected slam to the side of his face sent him sprawling on the not-floor, his cheek throbbing. Wizeman's voice echoed about him once more. "You do not address me in that manner."

"Yes, my lord," managed Reala, rubbing his face. 'What's going on?'

"The nightmaren have betrayed us."

"What?"

"They have abandoned our cause, just as NiGHTS did before them. Your leadership is gone."

Gone. Just like that.

He felt the anger, then; anger at his brother, anger at those he'd led, anger at himself for not striving harder, not whipping them into shape. They'd rebelled---those filthy, traitorous maren! They'd ruined everything.

"The mission is failed, then?" he asked, his voice small.

"No." Wizeman allowed him to see a small orb glowing before him; within it, he saw what looked to be Stick Canyon. It was different than he remembered.

"I have kept my most loyal servants, the High Seekers," rumbled Wizeman. "To each of you, I will give your own dream. I have created a barrier between the rest of the Dream World and these dreams; the imbalance and chaos that plague the outside will not reach here. Your designated territory is Stick Canyon. You will be the general over the land I have now created."

"Land you created?" repeated Reala, feeling slightly dizzy. "How long have I been asleep? How did I fall asleep in the first place?"

"Only for a short time," replied Wizeman, not answering his second question. "But I have planned this for a long while. I only had to put it to action. The Dream World, like you, has been perfected. Without the rebellious masses your reign of your nightmare will be absolute. With enough energy gathered, by the time the convergence comes again you six will be all that are needed to take over the Waking World."

"Just us six?" Reala felt the dizziness come on again. They'd been preparing to do this mission with several hundred others, last he'd checked. "Only us?"

"Minions will be sent to help, but they will not be necessary. Together, the High Seekers will be enough; I have planned it. You will be the leader of my perfect nightmare beings."

He swallowed, a feeling he'd had recently swelling up within him once more; the pride of being given leadership over others. He looked back down at the orb. "So we're now sealed in here."

A blow to the side of his face sent him sprawling again. Apparently Wizeman was not going to brook any disrespect from this point on. "The chaos is sealed out. We can leave if we wish, but we do not need to. The barrier will remain unbreached."

"Yes, my lord." Reala touched tenderly the bruise forming on his face. "May I ask how we were betrayed by the other nightmaren, my lord? All I can remember is the orders for the evacuation…"

"They refused. You were not present, but they refused my commands, saying that it was too dangerous beyond the castle walls. Some raised arms and proposed to overthrow you and force me to choose another general, stating that they wanted one who was easier on their sorry heads. I banished them from this perfect kingdom and sealed the barrier."

"Thank you," managed Reala, unsure of how to react, feeling anger boil up in him at his own soldiers' treachery. He had struggled to teach them how to keep themselves alive, worked day and night to train them, and they had betrayed him. 

_'No matter who I put my trust in, they betray me,' _he thought bitterly. _'Trust is a cruel thing.'_

"Why are there so many mechanical structures in Stick Canyon, my lord?" he asked, realizing finally that he had been silent for some time.

"Ah, those." Wizeman's voice held a touch of pride. "They are the result of my own study of human dreams. They are the machines with which we will create a new breed of creatures."

"A new breed, master?"  
"Yes. A creature with a Minion's mind and a body of metal. Think of it, Reala. With machines, there is no chance of betrayal."

Reala sucked in a breath, amazed. "We will never have another NiGHTS," he whispered.

"Yes."

He stared at the strange metal structures in the orb with new fascination, his voice filled with awe. "Truly, you have thought of everything, my lord."

Wizeman smiled. "It is time for you to leave for Stick Canyon and discover your new land. It is yours; rule it wisely and well."

"Very well, my lord." Reala bowed as the room about him became clear, and he strode out the door with a sense of purpose. He was general of nightmares, the leader of the High Seekers, and the ruler of Stick Canyon. Power would never betray him.

AC was perched on a burned-out torch when Reala exited the throne room, his head high and an unearthly light burning in his eyes. The crow nearly flew after him, but then stopped and looked longingly back towards the closed stone doors. If Reala came out, that must mean Jackle would come out, too; he just had to wait.

Settling himself down once more, he fluffed out and again began his silent, faithful vigil.

In the rebel camp, Morgen was being attacked by hugs and screams.

"WHERE THE IDEYA WERE YOU?!"

"Oh Morgen, we were so worried!"

"If you EVER pull a stunt like that AGAIN…"

The actor laughed weakly, trying to edge out of a crushing hug from Aster. "I was out in the swamps."

"OUT IN THE SWAMPS?! WHY, I---"

"Luna," said Tessa, "You're going to draw down the entire Equs population. Shut up."

"I DON'T GIVE A BENT PENNY OVER THE ENTIRE EQUS POPULATION, I WANT TO KNOW---"

"He can't possibly explain how he survived if you're yelling at him. Now sit quietly like a mature maren and let the wounded one explain," Tessa said, glancing at the white-haired actor. "You jerk," she added for emphasis.

Morgen laughed breathlessly and gave Amaranth and Apathy a wink as he finally managed to slide out of Aster's hug. "Guess it's better than a cold welcome, eh?"

"Oh, shut up," replied Amaranth. "You know you're enjoying every moment, you albino actor of the Armory."

"Mea culpa," laughed Morgen, holding his hands up, palms out. He then caught sight of Luna's Personalized Death Glare and chuckled nervously. "Right. Story. Wait, is that Hist?"  
The wounded maren was staring at Morgen from where he lay near the fire, an expression of relief on his face. Morgen leaped over the flames and crouched down next to the guard, immediately all worry. "I thought you'd bought it! Are you all right?"

"A lot better than you're supposed to be," was Hist's reply. "You've officially been labeled dead."

"Me? Dead?" Morgen's eyes opened wide in innocence. "Whatever gave you loonies that idea?"

"The fact that you fell into a hole and didn't come out," snapped Luna. "Now get on with the explanation and get on with it quick, before I decide that you're not Morgen and take my lance to you."

"Oh, right." Morgen sat down by the fire, the leaping flames highlighting his pale face and showing it to be rather thin. "Well, as you must know, Hist and I got attacked by an Equs. Hist got knocked silly, and I took off running.

"The brute caught up with me, and took a swing at me---and wouldn't you know, but I'm standing right on the edge of one of those awful black holes! Which is really quite stupid, because if he wanted me for dinner than he'd lose his meat whether or not I got away, so what's the point of a hunt if---"

"Shaddup and get on with it!"

"Equs eat nightmaren?" whispered Aster to her teacher. Luna nodded distractedly. 

"If they're hungry for it, yes. They usually prefer slower game. Go on, Morgen!"

Aster nodded, looking rather sick. Morgen continued. "So the thing whoomps me and sends me falling, and I dropped into that hole I mentioned before. It was rather annoying, what with those slimy weeds gripping me and that dirty black water, but after getting a bit tangled in the weeds I managed to break through to the surface again.

"I guess the Equs got impatient, because it was gone. I dragged myself out of the hole and, in knee-deep water, started crawling for what I thought was home---turns out I was slightly skewed and heading northeast, but anyway. I only got a short way before my broken hand gave out---I couldn't get up and walk---and I passed out right there, in the water.

"I'm not sure how long I was out, but it was a long time; it was nearly nightfall by the time I woke up."

"You still haven't accounted for an entire day," Luna reminded him.

"I know, I know, I'm getting to that! I started out again, but like I said I was heading northeast---I was too wacked out to even tell where I was. I was only half an hour along when I looked around an oak and nearly ran into a herd of---get this---Equs."

"We saw them," said Lunatic matter-of-factly.

"You did?"

"When we were searching for you."

"So we were right in sight of each other." He whistled. "Why were you out that late?"

"It was the middle of the day."

"Ah, then you must have seen them before. When I came to them, they were settling down for the night, and they didn't move until the early morning.

"That was awful. I hadn't known they were there until I was right up next to them, and I didn't dare try to move away once I saw them, so I had to just hunker there behind a tree and wait out the night. I nearly passed out again from fear. They didn't move till late morning, and by that time Wizeman sent out his little mental message.

"I didn't want to just go back to Nightmare Castle, since he didn't want us there, but at the same time I figured another help hand's always welcome when there's a problem."

"So it took you all day to get here?" asked Luna.

"Half the day," defended Morgen. "I'm not in the best of shape, Luna! And besides, that shield was up, and so I had to go off searching for you all, couldn't find you until you lit the fires---"

He cut off as Stella sat down next to him, medic bag open. "Oh, thank you."

"Hold out that hand," she ordered, and for the first time the nightmaren were able to see the damage done. Aster grew slightly green when the actor brought it out of where he'd been hiding it, Napoleon-like, in his shirt. The bones were visible in some places.

"Oya oya." Stella clicked her tongue chidingly over it. "You did get yirself smashed a good one, didn't yi? Hold still though, it'll mend once I set it aright. Bite yir lip."

"No, not yet!" Morgen held out the twigs he'd been cradling. "I searched through half of the swamp to find these, so you'd better use them!"

"I knew you were doing something else," declared a voice over their heads. Luna stood above them, arms akimbo. "You were hunting for woodsbane. Of all the daft-headed…"

"She needs it!" defended Morgen. "And besides, it would be pointless if I---"

He cut off when Luna abruptly dropped to her knees and began sobbing.

"Uh…"

"It's all right," she sobbed through tears. "I'm just…so happy you're alive…"

"Uh…So'm I, actually…"

"She's had a lot a' stress lately, especially with you dyin'," explained Stella patiently. "Now hold still."

Wizeman watched through the orb as Reala began exploring his new territory, touching the machinery, exploring the hidden cave which contained his throne room, playing with the blue torches that refused to go out. He was like a boy who'd been placed in a new playground and told to explore it; wanting to know about everything. He would do well.

The others would be fairly simple. First he awoke Puffy, taking care to hide the others' sleeping forms before she opened her eyes.

"The world has changed," were the words she was greeted with.

"What do you mean?" she whispered, looking about her fearfully. The throne room was more shadowed than usual, and she suddenly had the immense feeling of being alone.

"The nightmaren of the castle rebelled, refusing to leave the walls and threatening to remove the High Seekers from power. I would not stand for such treachery, and banished them to the outer rim of the Dream World, encasing the inner half in a barrier through which none of them may pass. From this point forward, you six and myself are the only nightmaren who live here."

"Oh," squeaked Puffy. 

"I have prepared a place for you in Splash Garden," continued Wizeman. "You will find it to your perfect taste. You are from here forward the ruler of Splash Garden, and your only duty is to gather the Ideya from dreamers who enter your realm. You make take your leisure there; soon, I will send mechanical helpers to ease your work. There will be no more fighting for you, Puffy."

"Oh," said Puffy. Her ears lifted a bit, a sign that she was in better spirits. She watched as Wizeman's hands came together, circling a dark orb; with a flash, it brightened, and she found that she could see a scene inside of it. It was somewhere within a dark house, she believed; a dusky-lighted house, with wonderful, marvelous things. She held her breath as she saw the luxurious velvet hangings and the soft cushions, expensive paintings hanging from the walls above. Wizeman's voice broke through her adoring thoughts.

"This is now your realm, Puffy. You will find it in Splash Garden."

"Oh," whispered Puffy, her ears trembling now. Delight was bright in her face. Wizeman closed his hand over the orb again, extinguishing the vision, to her dismay. 

"Now go and explore your realm."

Puffy did a version of a curtsy. "Thank you, my lord," she said, her voice thick with happiness. "But, if I may ask…what about my brethren?"

"They each will be given their own dream to rule. You may see them whenever you like."

"Oh," said Puffy happily, and bounced out.

Outside, perched sleepily on the wall sconce, AC started and nearly fell off as Puffy came bouncing out of the door, singing happily to herself. She did not notice him. He shook himself and blinked after her, then turned to look at the doors hopefully, but they closed once more without allowing anyone else to exit. 

He muttered something to himself in crow language and settled down again, mentally chastising himself for nearly falling asleep. He had to stay awake for when Jackle came out, as he knew the demi-maren would. He had no doubt; he trusted his friend.

At the rebel camp, Luna was just finishing explaining the current situation to Morgen. The actor took it all surprisingly calmly; after all, as he put it, "I just went crawling through half the swamplands with a broken hand and a herd of Equs two feet away. You think I'm going to get worried over a camp-out?"

"But it's not just a camp-out, and that's the thing," said Luna, looking out over the scattered fires and the half-visible forms of nightmaren gathered about them. "It's for good, as far as we know. We're going to have to build up our world all over again---and this time around things are warping as we speak. The sky over Soft Museum looks even more green then it did during the day."

Morgen looked northward toward the spidery waves of eerie green that were coating the sky. "Personally, I rather like the effect."

"It's nice for decoration, but it means that things are twisting even more, and I don't like that." Luna accepted the dish that was handed to her as Chaotica and Heckler went around the fire, handing out plates. She took a bite and nodded appreciatively as the two sat down by the fire together. "Nice, Chaotica. Amazing how you were able to whip together a good meal on the run."

"I knew that bringing along enough food for awhile would come in handy." She sighed. "But we haven't enough for long, not with how many maren we've got out here. We're going to have to start gathering tomorrow, the day after if we stretch it---and there's no substitute for the lack of water. We have to go into Mystic Forest."

"We will." Luna took another bite. "We're prepared and ready to fight now; I'll get together some guard groups to go with them, and they'll be able to take care of things. Did it before, I'll do it again."

"Funny, I thought you were worried over all of this," said Morgen to the sky. 

She gave him a shove. "It's different when it comes to fighting. Then I know what's going on."

"Ah, of course."

"You know," said Terrance to the general assembly about the fire, "I'm beginning to think that we're becoming a very great joke for the universe."

"Eh, who knows?" Tessa was seated next to Vespers, who had her book right by her side, one hand on it protectively. "There are other wills around us, that's for sure---but we seem to be doing fairly well anyway."

"Have to." Dysdane crossed her legs casually. "If we don't, we're dead."

"Nice cheerful thought." Corbeau pulled up a stick that had been shoving him in the back and tossed it on the fire. "Still, it's not that bad. The first nightmaren carved a culture out of the chaos that was the Dream World---we can, too."

"Us against chaos," mused Morgen. "I like the sound of that. Dramatic."

"Chaos-busters?"

Chaotica leaned her head on his shoulder. "Somehow it's missing something, Heckler."

"Eh, we'll think up a nice spiffy name sooner or later." Morgen grinned. "Something like---Moonchasers!"

Luna gave him a strange look. "Moonchasers?"

He shrugged. "The moon never varies. She changes, but is never chaotic."

"It's missing something."

"The Free Maren Republic?"

"Sounds like a human organization."

"Mm…how about just the rebels?"

"Who are we rebelling against?"

"Wizeman, dur."

"We're not rebelling, we're trying to survive after being banished."

Corbeau lifted an eyebrow. "So we're The Outcasts?"

"Sounds like we were run out of our homeland by an overpowering government," said Dysdane bluntly.

"Which is true."

"Yes, but you make it sound as if we are unable to take care of ourselves. We're not victims. We're survivors."

"The Survivors, then?" Morgen tried the name out.

"Missing something."

"The Free Survivors."

"…no, still missing something."

"Cummon, Luna, you'd have something good. What do we call ourselves?"

The sparring instructor groaned. "How should I know? Call it the Colony of Survivors if you want. Rebels sounds more ferocious."

"Once more, who are we rebelling against?"

"I don't know!"

"So we're the Random Group Of Wandering Nightmaren Without A Name?"

"No." Chaotica gave Heckler a jab with her elbow. "We're---wanderers. Survivors. Hopers."

"Dreamers," added Heckler dryly, earning himself another jab.

Luna drew a circle in the dirt with the end of her lance. "Fine, we'll call ourselves survivors. That's hopeful enough."

"There's always pain, but there's always hope, too," piped up Aster. Luna glanced at her.

"I thought you didn't like that saying. Thought it far too cliché."

"Yeah, well, the guy who said it isn't dead anymore."

"I don't know whether that sentence was funny, or disturbing," mused Lunatic.

"And that's my phrase," pointed out Morgen. "No fair stealing it."

"Yeah, you seem to be pretty darn quotable around here." Insomnia swung himself over a log and perched there, balancing. "Has to do with being able to come back from the dead, I guess."

"Really? I always thought it was the dashing good looks."

Dysdane tossed another log on the fire. "What good looks?"

Gillwing was surprisingly difficult. Wizeman found himself constantly fielding enquiries about the others, and just what the nightmaren all did, and why he wasn't awake when it happened, and where Jackle was. Eventually the ruler found himself losing his temper.

"You're going to preside over Spring Valley," he snarled. "Go and find your place."

Gillwing tried once more. "But---"

"Go!"

He flinched from his ruler's anger and turned away moodily. Wizeman watched as he dragged himself out, tail low and ears drooping. _'It is a good thing he had a solid hide, or he would be hurting by now,'_ he mused.

AC perked up as Gillwing slouched through the door, but was disappointed once again as the nightmaren ambled down the stairs, alone. The stone doors closed.

The crow stared at them, his eyes bright. They would open and let his friend out, he knew.

Clawz, Wizeman felt sure, would be fairly simple. He awoke the catmaren without bothering to shield Jackle from him, and allowed Clawz to wake fully, waiting for the catmaren to speak.

"What happened, my lord?" asked Clawz in a whisper, staring at the still form of Jackle lying on the cold stone floor. 

"The nightmaren have rebelled," explained Wizeman calmly. "They went against the leadership of the High Seekers and were threatening to begin a violent takeover of power. You and your brethren were brought within my room to be kept safe, and I banished them from our kingdom."

"Where did they go?"

"The outer ring of the Dream World. I have created a barrier of energy to keep them from returning and to shield our world from the chaos that is tearing at the outer ring. This is now our world of nightmares, and I have given each of you a sector to rule. You have been given Frozen Bell. There you will find a structure for your own, from which you will govern your sector. Your duty is to gather Ideya as dreamers enter your realm, and to periodically send them to me. When the convergence comes once more, we shall have enough dream energy to control the Waking World."

"Just us?"

"You six are enough. You have grown strong through years of experience."

Clawz swallowed, not at all believing what was happening. "So you mean that the entire castle has left?"

"They rebelled."

"Like NiGHTS?"

"Yes."

The catmaren looked to where Jackle lay curled in a semi-circle, sleeping peacefully. Beyond him, the crystal bowl that stood in Wizeman's room for the use of Gulpo stood; the sleeping fish floated silently in the dark water, every now and then sending a few bubbles drifting to the top of the water. "What of them, my lord?"

"I will give them their assigned spots soon. Now go and take control of your new territory."

"Yes, master." The catmaren slunk out of the throne room, feeling very confused. He was too busy contemplating the world's way of suddenly sliding out from under one's feet to even notice the onyx bird that was perched outside Wizeman's doors, who watched with piercing black eyes as he descended the stairs, now muttering to himself.

"Out of nowhere…just like that?…"

Jackle merited a bit more preparation. The demi-maren was loyal and certainly obedient, but his curiosity and generally good-willed nature could create some difficulties. Wizeman pondered what to say for some time before he nudged the caped maren into waking.

Jackle yawned and slowly sat up, rubbing his hands in his eyes and stretching both arms above his head before looking around. Wizeman saw him stiffen, his vision clouded to make all about him appear dark; no doubt he was having a bad case of déjà vu. Jackle's wavering voice floated up to him, unsure. "Master?…"

"You will obey me."

" 'Course I will, Master, but---"

A hand slammed him to the floor, disappearing again into darkness. He crouched down in fear and held a hand to his face as Wizeman's voice, suddenly grown harsh and deep, rumbled out at him from all sides. "You do not question, you obey!"

He cried out as he was slammed into the wall, the darkness about him seeming to reach out and strike him with heavy hands. A voice he no longer recognized echoed about him as he tried to cover himself with his cape before it was ripped away from him.

"Chaos is in the world. Everything has fallen!"

Night was falling softly upon Spring Valley when Gillwing, wings pumping, flew overhead. NiGHTS, nodding off in his prison, jerked his head up and watched.

"I wonder where he's off to," he said to Tuck, who was dozing against a pillar of the Ideya Palace.

"Probably late-night hunt," mumbled Tuck sleepily.

"No, he didn't seem to be looking around him---just flying straight ahead. I wonder if it had anything to do with that wave that came over earlier."

"Probably not."

"Yeah, probably not. But I wonder what that thing earlier was?"

"I already told you, it was probably just some dreamer dreaming about a hurricane."

"No, for some reason it felt different than a dream…I don't know how to explain it, but it just didn't have a dreamy feel to it. It felt more real."

"So you're saying it was part of the Dream World?"

"Yeah."

"It wasn't dreamy enough to be made by a human's dream, but it was real enough to be from the Dream World?" He snorted. "You've got a long way to go with polishing your logic, NiGHTS."

"I do not!"

Tuck shrugged and rolled over, curling into a chubby ball. "Suit yourself."

NiGHTS went back to watching the stars. The moon overhead was bright and glorious, a shining ball of light. Staring up at it, he felt his chest grow warm---and a flash of premonition hit him between the eyes.

---They were trying so hard---he couldn't let them down. He struggled to cling on to any drip of energy he had and bring it to his hands, transferring it their fragile bodies, protecting them against the searing power of the monstrous enemy before them, its entire being focused on destroying them entirely---

He gasped, coming back to the present with a snap. What of nightmares was that? Another dream?

He fingered his gem quietly, swallowing. Something always happened after his gem reacted like that. But what was it? 

_'Perhaps…perhaps, like my first dream, that was a glimpse into the future.'_

A sobering thought. It had felt quite real, even though he couldn't tell who he'd been fighting against or who he'd been protecting---all he could really understand was the fierce need to protect those delicate souls. He couldn't let them down.

He settled down on the cold floor, crossing his arms and letting his head rest on them as he began to drift into sleep. _'I don't know who you are, but I promise I'll protect you when the time comes. I swear it.'_

He slept peacefully, and his dreams were full of laughing children.

Voices were flowing about him, a chaotic babble of words and songs in the mix of pain and darkness. All he could do was curl up in a ball and hold tight, sobbing out any words that came to his mind in an effort to keep from losing himself. He was afraid that, if he let go, he might never find who he was again.

"Ring around the rosies, pocket full of posies---Ashes, ashes, we all fall down," he chanted through his choking sobs. "Pretty pretty glass, pretty pretty blue…ring-a round-a rosies, pocket full-a posies, ashes ashes they burn your mind…"

The voices echoed him, singing their own songs. _Mirror glinting mirror! So pretty Singing love singing sing song of sea sing song of wind sing song of darkness and shadow and night Mirror shining brightly shining with light light! _

He hiccupped as a wave of darkness slammed into him, bruising his face, and he began another round. "Ring around the fire, burning, turning higher, ashes ashes we all burn away…"

__

Song and shadow and mirror and sea so pretty love love love! Song and sea sing loud sing sing strong sing oh! Sing sing sing! Love sing love shadows and singing oh love singing all love sing yes love sing and love mirrors and glinting glass glinting glinting glass so pretty pretty pretty things love pretty things all so pretty bright and pure like blood blood!

"Blood!" he whispered, as visions of glinting shards of glass and shimmering dark rivers poured through his mind. "Pretty blood…"

_Yes pretty so pretty, and glimmering shades of dusk!_

And abruptly, the pain stopped.

He lay still where the cruel darkness had dropped him, staring at nothing, watching within his mind the shimmering, delightful images of sharp glass shattering into beautiful sharp pieces. Gorgeous blood poured over them all. "So pretty," he whispered.

A voice, one that he recognized, came through the dark. "Jackle."

He did not move. "Yes, Master?" 

"Sit up."

He did as ordered, feeling his skin complain and shriek under the bruises that the mean darkness had given him. He cringed as voices flowed into his mind.

_Yes yes obey tis isn't right to question you know! Shouldn't question, it isn't right! Makes for pain, darling, makes for pain---_

"You will obey me."

"Yes, Master."

_That's right, listen to what he says!_

"But Master, what's happened?"

"The nightmaren have rebelled."

_Run and hid, yes, chickened out and wouldn't listen! Traitors all of them, they questioned him, yes!_

"Rebelled?"

Another blow sent him slamming to the floor again. He huddled down with his cape over his head, his voice coming out from under it in a muffled tone. "S'rry, Master, din't mean it, honest!"

"You do not question, you obey!"

"Yes, Master!"

"They have rebelled, and they and the chaos have been sealed away. You and the other High Seekers will rule this land on your own, without their help."

"But what about the other---"

He cried out as he was slammed against the wall, and pressed against its cold stones, seeking shelter. "Din't mean it, Master!"

_Don't question no things just are you know that's the way things are!_

"Things are?" he asked.

"Things are fine," replied Wizeman, not following his mental conversation.

__

Things are the way they fall so you fall with them, pet! That's the way the world is made you know, but now that the world's broken it falls and you fall with, it's oh a lovely fall! Come, pet, don't question just fall!

"I just fall?" he whispered.

_Yes yes yes! Just fall! And all things will fall on their own, pet don't you worry about that…_

Wizeman reached out and touched the demi-maren's forehead, ignoring when Jackle flinched and tried to shield himself. Slowly the darkness that had been crowding the demi-maren's vision faded, and he was able to see his ruler.

"Look closely, Jackle."

He peered at the orb that had appeared in his master's hands, drawn to its shining surface and smooth shape. "Pretty…blue glass."

__

Blue tabletop and clear glass 

"Look closer."

He squinted. He could see a picture beginning to form inside.

__

Blue like water

He sucked in his breath in delight. Inside the globe a darkened hall was becoming clear; it looked twisted, and yet somehow welcomingly soft; mirrors coated its walls. Jackle grinned. "Ooh, pretty!"

__

Clear glass like shining mirror glinting sharply

He touched the surface of the orb lovingly, wanting to see more of the enchanting hall. "So pretty and soft…"

__

Water like the sea pretty sea singing sea song singing

"Yes, Jackle. This is in Soft Museum."

"Soft Museum?" His eyes opened wide in remembrance.

Wizeman slapped him, sending him tumbling to the floor once more; remembrance was not what he wanted. "I said, do not question me!"

"Not questionin' you, Master!" Jackle cowered under his cape once more, peeking out longingly at the shining orb. "SoOo pretty…"

"It is yours."

"Mine?"

"Yes. It is your house. You will not want to leave it."

"My house!" he chirruped, climbing to his feet and skipping towards the orb once more. "My house!"

"You will not want to leave it," repeated Wizeman.

"No, Master, not such a lovely house!" He touched the orb with delicate fingers, cooing over his new home. "SoOo prett-Y!"

Wizeman ignored the odd fluctuation in the demi-maren's voice as he reached out and extinguished the orb, effectively gaining Jackle's attention again. "Look, Jackle."

The demi-maren followed his gesture to his opened palm, where a small pulsing sphere of light was forming. He brightened. "Another orb?"

"No." The hand twitched, and the sphere burst; out of the shimmering rubble rose a butterfly. It was large and beautiful, its paper-thin wings covered in glorious patterns; a shimmer of magical dust fell from its wings as it fluttered out of Wizeman's palm, its flight erratic and unsteady like any other butterfly's but its course generally straight. Jackle giggled with delight as it fluttered about his head and batted at it like a kitten will paw at a toy. He giggled again and began chasing it around Wizeman's throne.

"Jackle, follow this butterfly." 

"Yes, Master!" he laughed, doing as told. He hardly noticed when the fluttering creature led him out through the great stone doors that opened for him of their own accord.

Outside, AC was sitting rather bad-temperedly on his wall sconce, feeling extremely tired and a bit hungry as well. He perked up, however, when he saw who had left the room.

Jackle halted momentarily as a cawing, flapping bundle of ecstatic black feathers flung itself onto his shoulder and perched there, hopping up and down in its excitement. He laughed. "AC, I missed you!"

The butterfly hovered in front of their faces for a moment, and he blinked in remembrance. "Oh yeah, I hafta follow this butterfly! Wizeman said so! Cummon, let's go see the house he gave me!"

AC, not at all perturbed my his companion's childishness, gamely flew after the butterfly. Jackle clapped his hands. "Let's see who can catch it!"

He bounded off down the hall, his delighted giggle echoing through the deserted castle.

Jackle was finished, as well as the cracked demi-maren could be. Wizeman turned to the last of the High Seekers.

Gulpo awoke with a slight twitch, his eyes drifting up to meet those of his master's. Wizeman was surprisingly blunt.

"I have banished all the lower nightmaren to the outer ring of the Dream World, and have created a barrier between that and the center. From this point forward Nightmare shall be our kingdom. Each of the High Seekers has been given a sector over which to reign; yours is Mystic Forest. Your duty is simply to gather Ideya and periodically send them to me. Is that clear?"

Gulpo nodded slowly.

"Very well. Go."

The giant fish turned and swam into the underwater tunnel that connected much of Nightmare Castle, his personal passage to the different bowls and lagoons placed about for his benefit. One side-passage led to an underground chamber deep in Mystic Forest; this one he took, swimming calmly.

And they were finished.

By the time they reached the edges of Soft Museum the moon had risen to its highest point in the heavens, giving the world about them a strange, shadow-cut look. The ground, as Jackle stepped onto it, bowed down away from him.

He, instead of pulling back in fright as he would once have done, instead stood staring at the way he was now several feet lower than the earth around him. "Whoa---I didn't know I could do this!"  
AC flapped to his shoulder and cawed, examining the strange phenomenon; the butterfly, hovering about their heads, was momentarily forgotten. Jackle took another step, watching in fascination as the ground pressed down under his weight and raised up again after he lifted away. "The ground's all soft now." He bounced on his heels, watching the ground rebound like a trampoline beneath him.

He looked up at the scenery about him. The entire landscape seemed melded together into one great soft cushion. Pathways led here and there, stopping and starting without meaning or cause; statues bent over the path or leaned sideways above the flowers, twisted into odd and unusual shapes. Pavilions had become round and squat, looking like short trampolines set up for a troop of acrobats. The stark moonlight highlighted the grounds with contrasts of bright moonbeams and strange shadows.

He grinned up at AC. "It's---perfect!"

With a whoop he took off across the landscape, bounding along pathways and careening into statues, flinging himself about in a gleeful frenzy of play. AC, for his part, decided to perch on one of the statues---it sagged when he landed on it---and watch from a safe distance.

Eventually the butterfly, becoming more insistent, managed to capture Jackle's attention once more. The demi-maren whistled for AC and took off after the creature again.

It led them straight to the museum itself, which seemed to have decided it needed a rest and fallen on its side. The door opened before them without being touched, as if the every air was soft and moldable here; once they were inside, Jackle found himself within a long, mirrored hallway, wispy gauze and silks draping from the ceiling, beautiful colors highlighted by the moonbeams shining through the skylights. He laughed giddily, spinning in a happy circle with his arms spread wide. "It's beautiful!"

The butterfly, its job done, disappeared into a puff of shimmering dust. Jackle was only momentarily distracted by its disappearance. "My butterfly! Oh, what a pretty veil…"

He touched the soft material, pleased to find that it slid into his hands without a snag. "So soft and nice! Cummon, AC, let's explore!"

He bounded down the hallway, the veil wrapped about him like a wispy second cloak, billowing out in his wake. AC flapped after him.

They spent hours exploring the museum. Jackle was most pleased with the room in its very heart; his room. He pointed this out to AC excitedly. 

"See? See? The floor! It had card patterns on it! This is my room! See? Spades and diamonds and clubs and hearts! It's my room!"

AC was perched uneasily on the edge of a giant block painted with yellow question marks, the edge being too tilted for him to get a good grip. With a caw of disgust he gave up and flew to the top of the still jack-in-the-box, not liking the look of the moving one, and perched on its head.

Jackle was now examining the curiosity of the walls---namely, there seemed to be none. He stepped out unfearingly into the void of blue and stars, and called his findings to the crow.

"It's all air---though it looks like you couldn't ever get to those stars, they're too far away! It's pretty wallpaper, though…"

He came back into the room, laughing as AC swooped to his shoulder. "What, Jack's too boring for you?"

He pointed to the still jack-in-the-box. "You're name's Jack," he announced, and pointed to the more mobile one. "And you're Hemingway."

AC eyed him. He giggled and skipped merrily towards a small flight of stone-carved stairs that curved up several feet into the void, leading to a doorway that opened into the space beyond. It served no practical purpose whatsoever, but he, apparently, liked it quite well. "Isn't this so nice? My own staircase!"

He pulled the door open and flung his arms wide, encompassing the entire horizon and all of the star-filled purple void in his grasp, and laughed to the sky. "Welcome home, AC."

Midnight in the Dream World.

Despite their names, Nightopia and Nightmare were not fearful places of evil during the night hours. Most of the land lay peacefully under the watches of the stars, bird and beast nestled down in sleep, a few Minions prowling through the forests, several Nightopians stargazing. Nighttime was peaceful.

Out along the edge of the southern plains, a large gathering of nightmaren was settled in a rough circle; fires burned brightly, scaring away the shadows and casting light on the glinting lances and swords that lined the camp in a protective shield of metal. Many stood, watchful, gazing out into the darkness in readiness for anything hostile that might come; they were silent and unmoving, however, and did not disturb the night. The rest of the encampment slept peacefully. Overhead, the stars kept silent watch. Peace reigned. Inside Nightmare, however, and within the western mountains, it was an entirely different story.

Someday, that story will be told.


	14. Epilogue

__

Epilogue

She was being chased. The thing behind her giggled with a high, cracked voice, his laugh pouring out from his mouth in breathless gasps. She could only run.

She tried to skid to a halt as she saw something coming; it was her reflection. A mirror blocked off the passage. She spotted a smaller doorway and took it, the thing skimming along behind her, still laughing. He was enjoying this.

A card swooped over her shoulder and hit a column, making it collapse; she cried out as it hit her, but it was only made of rubber and did not hurt. She crawled out from under it and found the creature standing in her way.

_His unfocused eyes followed the orb slowly circling her, and he giggled. "oOOoh, white-lily-o! Love the white, I do!"_

She jerked back as he leaped at her, crimson-tipped fingers slashing at her like claws; they did not touch her, however, but rather yanked away the floating white orb. She fell back and tried to shove herself away, mind suddenly reeling. It felt somehow as if someone had inexplicably reached into her mind and pulled out a thought or idea.

The creature was biting into the sphere like it was a ball of candy, and she saw that he had small, dainty fangs. He chortled to himself around the orb, eyes closed in happiness.

She watched in a type of morbid fascination as the sphere grew smaller. He seemed to be sucking its insides out. Gradually it grew to the size of a baseball, then a ping-pong ball, then a quarter---and then it was gone, leaving behind only a sparkle of iridescent shimmer in the air.

The thing licked its fingers happily; a fang scraped too close on his ring finger, and it began bleeding. He stopped and stared at it, fascinated. His face reminded her of a young boy who has suddenly learned that balloons can pop.

Then he grinned and stuck the finger in his mouth, sucking greedily. His eyes closed again in the contented look he'd shown earlier when he'd been devouring her orb. She swallowed, feeling her stomach churn.

He stopped and looked up at her, smiling proudly like a child who has just accomplished something. "Pretty blood, pretty shining blood!"

She took a careful step back. He peered at her closely, his grin becoming wider. "Pretty bet you have lOOOTs of blood!"

She screamed as he pounced at her again, his cape spread wide like the wings of some strange neon bat. Turning, she tried to run before those blood-tipped fingers could grab her and suck her dry like they had the orb, her beautiful orb. She found herself ludicrously mourning her sphere.

His fingers dug into her shoulders as he landed on her back, knocking her to the ground. She gasped once more before the small, glimmering fangs sank into her wrist.

The creature chuckled happily to himself, ignoring the fact that it made the dream-blood trickle out the sides of his mouth. She was aware, vaguely, of the cold feeling of droplets dripping down her skin.

She felt no pain. The creature was strangely light, and the crimson fingers did not dig into her flesh. She whimpered and contemplated trying to fight her way out.

The sound---a small, stammering whimper---made him pause mid-suck, eyes suddenly opening wide. She felt his fangs pull away from her wrist. He let her go and stumbled back, mouth open in amazement or horror, blood staining his dainty lips a bright cherry red; one hand was pressed against them, palm facing out. He gaped at her. She stared back at him, fuzzily.

Without another sound, he turned and fled.

Slowly she raised herself up on one arm, staring confusedly down the mirrored passage he'd taken; moving her fingers to the back of her wrist, she could feel the small, dainty holes his fangs had left. 

With a stifled gasp, Emily sat upright in bed, sweat beading on her forehead and hands clutching the blankets with desperate strength. A beam of moonlight streaked through her window, highlighting the wooden blocks she and her brother had played with during the day; they lay scattered and in disorder, an entire town of buildings and castles tumbled to rubble by the single sweep of someone's hand. The full moon beamed silently down upon the chaos of a ruined world.

Only a nightmare.


End file.
